An Accidental Odyssey
by fawkes21
Summary: Can a single mistake really spark a journey of truths for the team?
1. It was a dark and stormy night

Author's Note: I am triumphantly announcing my return from a self imposed exile during this most hectic time of the school year. I am sure some of you were wondering where I was (and likewise, I am sure some of you could have cared less). But at any rate I am back! I have some new ideas, plus I think I will finish my works in progress so hopefully you will all have lots to read (and to review!) in coming weeks. In case you too were locked away studying in some darkened library, the characters of CSI are not mine to keep

*                      *                      *

It was a dark and stormy night.

            Looking back on it now, he realized how clichéd and trite that expression sounded. It was cloying and pathetic, even to his own ears. Yet at the time, there could not have been a more perfect description of the forces of nature that had played but a small role in that night's events.

            It was a Friday and the air was heavy with rain and excitement. The promise of a weekend off sparked a sense of almost giddy exhilaration. His paperwork was finished and there was nothing but a long stretch of road separating him from freedom. He felt the faintest twinge of guilt for the rest of them who would not get to enjoy three glorious days of relaxation. Still, tonight was all about cutting loose and thoughts of them soon vanished from his mind. He bid everyone a cheerful farewell as he escaped from the catacombs of death and science that was the crime lab. He was climbing into his car when he saw her. She too had managed to procure a weekend off, and he was suddenly overtaken by the need for company. On a whim, he bounded over to her and asked her to join him on his excursion to nowhere. He expected her to decline, as she was really not the prowling type. She hesitated only briefly, and then accepted his invitation. He didn't stop to wonder why.

            Soon they were swimming amidst a sea of bargain basement cologne and bad pick-up lines. The utter displacement from their usual comfort zone quickly became amusing to them. They became two individuals conforming to the sub-standards dictated by their environment. The irony was not lost on her, and she delighted in pointing it out to him, moments after asking a complete stranger if she could sit on his lap and "see what pops up". The crudeness of her words was so antithetical, yet at once completely natural. They blended in and relished in the escapism that they so desperately needed. The rest of the evening became a blur of words and images that he still struggled to piece together the big picture. All he was ever able to manage were sporadic fragments of that night.

_"Why didn't we do this sooner?!"_

Music. Laughter. Dancing.

_"Whoa! Easy tiger, we have all night!"_

Alcohol. Smoke. Beer nuts.

_"Take it easy kid, you're going to get us killed"_

Rain. Glass. Twisted Metal.

_"God what a mess. How could anyone survive this?"_

            The phone call had come at 3:16AM. The words had been solemn, severe and tinged with a hopelessness that the caller could not hide. The voice told him to hurry, that they weren't sure how much longer they could hold on. He had wasted no time in calling the rest of them. He heard the sleep in their voices, then the shock and lastly the fear. They were wide awake as the rest of the world slumbered.

            They congregated in the Emergency Room, a mass of mussed up hair and shadowy eyes. They waited, painfully aware that with each passing second the life of their loved ones may be ebbing away. They prayed for the best and feared the worst. There were haunting interludes of sobbing. There were questions without any answers. There were empty conversations about nothing at all.

            She watched as the early morning sun broke through the dense clouds of the previous night and cast dense shadows across the worn linoleum floor. She thought about coffee, but couldn't bring herself to move. She rooted herself to her molded plastic chair resolved that her caffeine inclinations had to wait until she knew something about their condition.

            She was unaware that her right hand was twitching.

*                      *                      *

            He watched her hand and wished he could hold it. As if physical contact could bring any measure of comfort. He thought about work. There was a lot to get done today. Funny, yesterday his paperwork had been of paramount importance. Today it was merely ink on paper.

            He was unaware that the doctor was approaching.

*                      *                      *

            He watched the doctor with an odd mix of trepidation and relief. They would at last get the answers that they had sought since the wee hours of the morning. He thought about the sunrise. It was so paradoxical that the birth of a new day could bring so much death. Someone, somewhere would never again wake up, go outside, and play with their kids. Life was suddenly cruel and unfair; a hideous contradiction unto itself.

            He was unaware that he was crying.

*                      *                      *

            The doctor stood before them, looking appropriately remorseful for his abrupt intrusion of their self-contained personal grief. His voice sounded distorted to their worried ears as he began to speak. It sounded like he was talking from underwater. His words were thick and blurry. He watched their faces as he broke the news. First there was lack of comprehension, as if the words were foreign to them.

_Car crash. Could have been worse. Lucky to be alive._

            Next their faces showed fear and sorrow, as if his words had physically cut into them.

_Sara. Critical. Comatose. Clinging to life._

            Finally their faces were masks of shock and disbelief, as if his words were about some fictitious third party whom they were far removed from.

_Greg. Unscathed. Driving. Intoxicated._

            The world spun and dipped as the information overload took a stranglehold on them. There were tears, of course. There were more impossible questions. There was pained resignation that the damage had been done and they now had to try and figure out where to go from here. Problem was, none of them were sure where "here" was anymore. Somehow, in the chaos and confusion of their thoughts, he found his voice. It was far colder then normal and there was an edge to it that couldn't be ignored. But it was still his voice.

"Call Nick in Texas. Tell him that Sara's in critical condition and his best friend can now proudly call himself a drunk driver".


	2. Conversations of the illfated

Author's Note – Yay! Lots of reviews! You guys are fantastic! Some people have been requesting that this story be a Nick/Sara piece but I am not going to do any pairings between anyone in this story. But if it makes you feel better, I have an idea in the works, so you may get a romance fix soon. I think that's it for now. Hope you enjoy this chapter and remember that the more you review, the more inspired I am to write! As always, CSI and its characters don't belong to me (no matter how many times I say this, I still feel depressed!)

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            Grissom, Catherine and Warrick were all anxious to go in and check on their friends, but the doctor stopped them. He explained in a gentle voice that Sara was still in Recovery following her surgery, and Greg had passed out from the combination of alcohol and shock. He was on gurney in the Emergency Room and as soon as he awoke, they would be informed. The doctor looked at the three tragedy masks in front of him and wished that he could say something that could make those faces happy again. But words could be of no consolation and he had to get back to his rounds. He politely excused himself and slipped back into the jungle of life and death. The CSI's stood silently for a moment, each trying to figure out something to say that didn't sound like a bad Hallmark card. There was no solace in their thoughts because all they could imagine was the worst. The only thing that they knew for certain at the moment was that there was much that needed to be attended before they received clearance to go and see their friends. They parted ways for the time being, each trying to find the words that would make some sense of the situation.

*                      *                      *

            Her hands were shaking as she dialed the familiar numbers on her cell phone. The morning breeze was warm on her skin, but she shivered anyways. She was trying to rehearse what she was going to say, but she knew that there was no easy way to explain any of this. There was a faint click as someone picked up the other end of the phone, so many miles away.

_"Nicky? It's Catherine. No, I'm not fine actually. Listen Nick, I need you to listen, ok? Don't talk because I am only going to be able to say this once. There's been an accident. Greg and Sara were apparently out together and they crashed the car. Greg's alright but Sara's in a bad way Nicky. They took her into surgery as soon as they arrived at the hospital and she's still in recovery. No, we don't know how bad it is yet. They won't let us in to see her until the anesthetic wears off. What am I not telling you? God, you do know me well. I wish there was some easy way to say this…the accident was a single car accident. The car went off the road and met up with a tree. I haven't seen the car yet, but the nurse told Grissom that Greg and Sara were lucky to be alive at all. But there's something else…the doctor tested their blood alcohol; they were both well above the legal limit. Oh God Nick…Greg was driving. He was drunk and he got behind the wheel of that car and he put Sara in the hospital. I'm sorry; I swore to myself I wouldn't lose it like this. It's just that I feel like I am in some kind of bad dream that I can't wake up from. It makes no sense to me. Why on earth would Greg even think about driving while he was drunk? You're right, I didn't think he was much of a drinker either. And for that matter, neither is Sara. Neither one of them drinks heavily, that's for sure. Maybe he just underestimated how much he had to drink. But still, this is so bad...I think Brass is on his way down here now. I'm sure that he's going to have to press charges. I know that Greg isn't like this normally, but the doctor has to report what he found. And like it or not, Greg IS a drunk driver. Listen, I want to get back to the waiting room, but you need to get yourself on the next plane out. I don't know how bad Sara is, and after Grissom gets a hold of him, I'm not sure how well off Greg is going to be either. If you need anything call me, ok? I sure hope everything will be ok Nicky. I'll see you soon."_

*                      *                      *

            He was tired of pacing. He felt like a caged lion. There had to be some sort of answers. It had been hours. He spotted the doctor and managed to catch his eye. The doctor looked tired, but he recognized the questioning look in the other man's eyes and knew that he had at least some of the answers that he was seeking.

_"Hi Doctor. My name is Warrick Brown. I'm a friend of Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders. You worked on them earlier, right? Oh good. Listen. I just need some information. Well, we are going to have to fill out a report, yes, but actually I need to find myself some piece of mind. How bad is it? We'll start with Greg. How deep was this wound on his head? Wow, that's pretty bad – almost twenty stitches. Poor kid. How serious of a concussion is it? That doesn't sound too bad. Yeah, it could have been worse. So he injured his chest as well? Oh, well yeah, I see your point. The seat belt would have pulled pretty hard, especially if he slammed on the brakes. But the shoulder wasn't dislocated, right? That's good to hear. Listen doc, I think you and I are both dancing around the real issue: how drunk was he? He took the Breathalyzer and failed it twice? Oh, I know you guys report that – although we will need a copy at a later time. Did he say anything before he passed out? Oh man. Yeah, he is the type of person who will let the guilt get to him. I'm not surprised to hear that he came in apologizing. He must be so worried about Sara. Speaking of which, how bad is it? And don't sugarcoat it. Define 'massive internal injuries' for me doc. So you had to take out her spleen? How bad was the damage to the liver? Oh God, were you able to stop the bleeding? I hope so to Doctor. She also took a blow to the head then? But there were no facial lacerations? How long will it be until she wakes up? What do you mean, you don't know? I don't…are you sure? You think she may be comatose? Oh my God, how am I supposed to tell the rest of the team…no, it's alright, I'll do it. But you'll be around if we need to ask you anything? Great. Yes, please page one of us as soon as she's up in the ICU – we all want to see her. Thanks a lot Doctor. I appreciate all your help."_

*                      *                      *

            He rolled the quarter around in the palm of his hand as he eyeballed the coin slot on the pay phone. He could not think of anything he could want to do less than this. He wished that there was someone else to do his dirty work for him, but that simply wasn't an option at this point. It was all up to him. The weight of the world was pressing firmly on his shoulders.

_"Ecklie, its Grissom. I'm at the hospital. No, it's not me. Sara and Greg got in an accident last night. Yes, Sara and Greg. They're not dating Ecklie, and it still wouldn't be any of your business even if they were. Look, can you stop being your usual acerbic self for two minutes? This is serious. The doctor said that Sara is freshly out of surgery, but they didn't tell us more than that. Warrick was talking to him the last time I looked, and things don't look too optimistic. The doctor and Warrick both look really serious, and I am willing to bet that Sara is a lot worse off than we originally thought. Gee, was that a note of actual compassion in your voice Conrad? I should have recorded it for posterity's sake. Sorry, you're right. I do sound like you. It's just that…oh, things are bad here. Not just with Sara. No, Greg's not hurt. At least not too badly. The doctor said he emerged 'unscathed', whatever that's supposed to mean. I' m assuming 'unscathed' refers to any injuries that aren't life threatening. The problem with Greg, Conrad is that he was driving the car when it crashed. No, that's not the worst of it. The doctor told us that he was intoxicated at the time. No, I'm not kidding. You think I could joke about something like that? He was drunk. Inebriated. Hammered. Whatever you want to call it, his blood alcohol level was exceeding the legal limit. Yeah, Brass knows. He called me while I was driving to the hospital. He told me that someone found Sara's CSI badge in the car and called headquarters. I guess someone put them in touch with Brass, since he is the Captain. He is at the accident scene now, but I can't bring myself to call him and tell him about Greg. I was wondering if you…thanks Ecklie. I owe you. Yeah, have him meet me here. How am I doing? Why Ecklie, I didn't think you cared. Sorry. I am…fine I guess. I want to see Sara and see how she's doing. I don't know what I am going to say to Greg. I am so angry right now that I have very little that he would want to hear. He's a disappointment and because of his lack of judgment, a very good friend of mine is in the hospital. I am keeping my distance for the time being. Well great. I'm glad that I have your permission to be pissed off. You know Ecklie, you sure aren't one to tell me how I ought to react. So how about you call Brass for me and then handle your caseload? We've got it from here. Yeah, thanks. Oh and Conrad? If word of this gets around headquarters before there is any official information released, Greg won't have to worry about being the focus of my wrath."_

*                      *                      *

            They met back up and looked at each other with tired eyes. The waiting room had begun to empty a bit by then, as the evening rush of accident victims had subsided. There was a handful of people left, all too consumed with their own grief to notice the young man emerge from Emergency Room. He wore a blood stained T-shirt, a bandage on his forehead and a look of complete despondence. He didn't speak, but his presence spoke volumes. His three superiors turned in seemingly slow motion until all six eyes were focused on him. He shifted uncomfortably under their glare. He could only think of one thing to say.

"I'm sorry".

At that moment…

_Nick was packing his bags._

_The Doctor was tending to a sick child._

_Ecklie was relaying the new information to Brass._

And Gil Grissom snapped.


	3. For Every Action There is a Reaction

Author's Note: Okay, I know I just left you all hanging there, but I miscalculated how much time I would actually need to study for exams. But they are done now, and my focus is all on my writing. So thanks for being patient and I promise I will keep it moving from now on. The characters of CSI don't belong to me – but I am learning to accept that.

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When he looked back on it later, he didn't even recall doing it. Gil Grissom was not a man that lost his temper very often, and he certainly never lashed out in anger. But seeing Greg standing there, looking very much alive while Sara was in critical condition unleashed something inside of him. Add Greg's apology to the mix, and there was a recipe for disaster. Grissom lunged at Greg and grabbed the young man by the front of his shirt. He slammed him back against the wall with as much force as he could muster. The kid's head hit the wall with a painful smack. Grissom leaned his face in very close to Greg's, his eyes burning with a rage that no one had ever borne witness to.

"You're sorry?" The words were very low and hissing. They were dripping with venom and poisoned Greg down to his soul. It was like having a complete stranger say those words to him. He nodded meekly, unable to find words because he was so shocked at Grissom's demeanor.

The nod seemed to enrage Grissom more. His grip shifted from Greg's shirtfront to his upper arms, where he gripped them in a vice-like grip. Greg flinched as the pain coursed down his already aching arms.

"Let me tell you what I am sorry about," Grissom began, his voice shaking with rage. "I am sorry for the day that I ever hired a pathetic, idiotic, self-centered little bastard to work in my lab. I am sorry that I couldn't see what a loser you really are. You are untrustworthy and you are a disappointment."

"Grissom, I –"

"Shut up!" The words were punctuated by Grissom driving him back into the wall. Greg let out a low moan of pain as his already throbbing head bounced off the hard plaster.

"You shut up and listen to me Greg. If Sara dies, it will be your fault. You put her in there, and God help you if she doesn't pull through. Your stupidity is unbelievable. What were you thinking?! Were you thinking at all?! Your actions left her in a coma. And I will never, ever forgive you for that. You are not welcome here, you got that? I find you anywhere near her again and I will personally see to it that they never find you body. You make me sick."

Greg was silent as Grissom carried on his tirade. His face was expressionless, until a single tear slipped down his cheek. Warrick saw this and knew it was time to get Grissom to back off. The kid had had enough.

"Gil?" Grissom flinched as Warrick leaned in close to his ear. "That's enough. Let Greg go. Sara needs you. Go be with her."

Grissom hesitated for only a moment before releasing his grip on Greg's arms. He clenched and unclenched his fists, surprised at how cramped they were. He must have been holding the kid tighter than he thought. With one final, hateful glance in Greg's direction, he stalked off in search of Sara's room.

            Greg was unable to move. He stood rooted to the spot, fighting the urge to try and say something that would make things okay. He had never seen Grissom this angry. Grissom apparently had a great capacity for anger, and Greg had seen but a small part of it unleashed on him today. He looked cautiously around. The few people that were still in the waiting room were conspicuously ignoring him. Their eyes were fixed unseeingly on magazines, on the floor, on the ceiling. Catherine was looking at him with a mixture of pity and disgust. She looked like she wanted to say something, and then thought better of it. She quietly excused herself and went off in the direction Grissom had. Warrick put one hand on Greg's back and gently propelled him towards the door that led to a stairwell. They went down two flights before Greg's strength finally gave out on him and he sank to the stairs. Warrick leaned against the wall opposite Greg, with his arms crossed and looked at him. Greg rested his head on his arms and wished that he could simply disappear. He realized that Warrick was waiting for him to say something.

"He hates me". The words were said with a sad sense of defeat. Warrick immediately uncrossed his arms and sat down beside Greg.

"He doesn't hate you".

"You saw what he did back there.  He hates me."

Warrick rubbed a hand over his eyes, realizing just now how tired he was. "Greg, he is upset. We all are. And when people are faced with something as serious as this, they tend to overreact. Grissom will come around."

Greg shook his head. "You didn't see his eyes Warrick. I have never seen so much anger in someone's eyes before. It was like looking into the face of someone I've never even met."

Warrick didn't have a response to that. He sighed once and stood up to lean against the wall again. He studied Greg's face carefully. The cut on his forehead was raised and ugly. The stitches made him look like a monster from the old horror movies. There were dark shadows under his eyes. His eyes themselves were dull and had the look of someone who had just had the world turn on them. He was favoring both arms, and grimaced as he tried to move them. Jeez, between the car wreck and Grissom's attack, the kid had been put through the physical wringer in the last few hours.

"How's your head?" He looked at Greg with concern, trying to ascertain whether or not he should take him back in to see the doctor.

"What do you care?" The words were harsh.

"Hey! Right now, I think I am the only friend that you may have left, so you'd better watch your tone!"

The reprimand stung like a slap. "Oh yeah, I'm so sure that you are concerned about my personal well-being. That's why you let Grissom knock me around like a punching bag".

"Look, I'm sorry about not intervening. But he needed to let his anger out. You know how he is. He will just bottle it all up until he explodes."

Greg laughed a bitter laugh. "Sure Warrick. Keep justifying his actions. Make yourself feel better. Hey, if we all want to vent our frustrations and anger, how about you take a couple swings at me. That ought to help you release some tension."

Warrick closed the gap between them with two strides and was about to reach down and grab Greg, maybe shake some sense into him, when he saw the look of terror that crossed Greg's face. The kid was scared of him. He thought that Warrick genuinely wanted to hurt him. Warrick reeled back.

"I'm sorry". He was almost whispering. He was horrified by what he had almost done. By what Grissom had done. In spite of his actions, Greg still needed their support. He sat on the floor across from him.

"Greg what happened with you last night? You hardly ever drink to begin with. What would possess you to get behind the wheel of a car?"

Greg shook his head. "I can't tell you" was all he said.

"Greg, man, some on. You owe me – and everyone else – an explanation. So what was the problem?"

Greg's eyes were red rimmed and he looked like he was about to cry. "It doesn't matter. I screwed up, ok? My reasons for doing it are irrelevant. Let's just say that I ruined everything and leave it at that."

"Greg-"

"Please. Just don't ask me anymore. I don't want to talk about it. All I want to do is go home and go to bed. Now are you going to drive me, or do I need to call a cab?"

Warrick was troubled. He didn't like the idea of Greg bottling his guilt up like this. But he knew better than to push for an explanation. Greg needed some time to rest before Warrick could press for information.

"Of course I'll give you a ride. Come on, let's go." 

*                      *                      *

            He waited until he was sure that Greg was safely inside before leaving. He was about to go home and change his clothes when his phone rang.

_"Warrick? It's Catherine. Can you go to the airport? Nick just arrived."_


	4. Reflections On a Mirror

Author's Note: Here's a short little chapter to tide you over until I get the chance to do a real update. I promise we will get back to the action soon, but this is a chapter that I thought was important, and this was the most logical place to put it. So without further adieu, enjoy! (Remember, I own nothing!)

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            While Warrick was driving to the airport to pick Nick up, Grissom and Catherine were waiting at the hospital. The doctor had told them that Sara was just being settled into her place in the ICU, but that he would come and get them as soon as it was time. They were both silent. What could they say? Grissom was still stewing over his outburst and Catherine was wondering if she should comment on it. In the end, she decided to let it rest because she knew full well that in Grissom's state of mind he would only get his back up. He was on the edge and his already frayed nerves were about to snap.

            She glanced at the silver watch on her left wrist and swore under her breath. Was that the time? Grissom looked up at her. She smiled apologetically and began to gather her coat and purse.

"Gil, you know I wish I could stay here and see Sara, but its almost a quarter after eight. I need to pick Lindsay up from the neighbors and get her off to school. They won't let both of us in to see her at the same time anyways, so I will go and then come back, okay?"

He nodded and rose to give her a hug as she left. She rested in his arms for just a moment, savoring the fleeting sense of security that she felt. She pulled back and studied his face, her eyes roaming the lines of worry that were etched across the surface. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

            "I'll bring you some real coffee when I come back. Anything has to be better than this sludge."

He smiled at her. "Thank you Catherine. Now go. Lindsay needs you."

She gave his hand a final brief squeeze and left the waiting room. Grissom sat back in his chair and did his best to ignore the quiet conversations and the muffled sobs of people around him. There was not a happy face in the room. The people who sat there looked as if they had long ago forgotten how to smile. Through their midst, a doctor came striding through. Grissom recognized him as the doctor who had been talking to Warrick. He leapt to his feet.

"Doctor…I'm sorry I never got your name. Sara Sidle, how is she?"

The doctor extended his hand which Grissom grasped and shook. "Doctor Howe. And why don't we have a seat? I'll explain Sara's injuries to you and then I will take you in to see her." They sat across from one another on two worn chairs at the end of the waiting room. Grissom momentarily wondered what kind of news these chairs had heard. How many people had wept with joy at the good news about their loved ones health? How many tears had been shed when the doctor broke the worst possible news to them? The chairs good bring respite from the sorrow, or they could bring the burden of loss. Grissom sat in one while the chairs waiting to here the confessions.

"Mr. Grissom, is it?" Grissom nodded. "Ms. Sidle has you listed as her next of kin. I know that you are her boss, but I want you to realize that as her next of kin, you may be required to make decisions on her behalf. It is a great responsibility, so be prepared to make some potentially difficult choices in the next few days."

Grissom nodded. He already knew all this. He wanted to grab the doctor and tell him to get to the point but he knew that it was protocol. He bit his tongue and tried not to look to antsy. 

The doctor continued. "Now as you know, Sara sustained massive internal damage. Her spleen was ruptured and had to be removed. The liver also sustained a great deal of trauma and a major concern right now is that the bleeding may start again. We are monitoring this. She suffered three broken ribs and the left lung was punctured. This led to even more internal bleeding. Now we've drained the lung and repaired it, but there is still much difficulty when she's breathing. She is breathing on her own, which is a very good sign, but we are concerned that the lung may re-open due to the pressure of the swelling on her ribs. If that happens, she will require immediate surgery to correct the problem."

Grissom felt like the world was spinning at top speed. He had a feeling of being slightly removed from the situation. It was as if he was listening to the doctor talk about someone else. It was like hearing about the misfortunes.

But he was talking about Sara. 

Grissom tried to find his voice. "How is she right now?" He was almost afraid of the response.

"Mr. Grissom, I won't lie to you. Right now, Sara is in critical condition. Her internal organs have suffered immense damage. She is very fortunate not to have sustained any head injuries. But as it stands right now, she is in a coma. Her body is struggling to survive, and the fight is taking a lot out of her. We don't know how long she will remain like this. What we do know is that the next forty-eight hours are of paramount importance. If, during that time, her body can fight the damage, then the prognosis is very good. However, infection is always a concern with us. We are monitoring it very carefully and of course we will make any new information available to you. Do you have any questions?"

"Can I see her?"

The doctor smiled. "Of course. But only for about ten minutes. Follow me."

He led Grissom through a maze of beds to where Sara was. He pulled up a chair for Grissom to sit in, then politely excused himself. Grissom sat and studied Sara carefully. Her face was very pale, and her dark hair made a sharp contrast with the light skin. Her face was untouched by any injury. Grissom thought that you could never guess that she had been in an accident. There was no outward sign of what had happened. The events of the previous evening were contained inside her body. There was nothing that Grissom could do now except be with her. As he looked at her face, he began to speak softly to her.

"Hey Sara, its Grissom. You're really scaring us, you know that? We want you to fight this Sara. You are the most stubborn, determined, and tenacious person I know. If anyone can win this type of battle, it will be you. You have always been a fighter.

God, Sara I wish I told you more often how important you are. Since I met you, I knew that you were going to be great. And I never once regretted asking you to come work with us. The rest of the team feels that way too. They say that others act as a reflection of oneself. I never knew what that meant before, but I think I get it now: other people are a mirror for who you are and what you want to be. The things that you love or loathe about yourself are reflected in the people you choose to align yourself with. You are a reflection of me Sara, but only the very best parts. You are my mirror. That's why I want you to wake up Sara. Because the qualities you reflect are so wonderful, that I would lose part of myself if I lost you. I need my reflection Sara.

Look, my time is almost up, but I want you to know that the team is behind you, and we are all praying for you. We know you can do this Sara but we can't do it for you. Be strong Sara. I'll come back as soon as the doctors let me. God Bless."

*                      *                      *

            Grissom headed out into the warm morning sunshine. The storm from last night had given way to a beautiful day. He wandered around the grounds of the hospital until they would tell him that he could go back in. A million thoughts were racing through his mind. Mostly, they revolved around his anger at Greg. He hadn't been lying when he had said those things to the younger man. He did blame him for the accident. Yet Grissom heard the little nagging voice in the back of his mind that was asking the question that he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to. He looked up at the hospital where Sara lay and whispered:

"Why did you get in the car with him Sara, if you knew that he had been drinking?"


	5. Theories and Queries

Author's Note: You know, I was under the impression that finishing school would free up some time so that I could write, but apparently I didn't get the memo saying that I was going to be worked like a dog instead. So many apologies for the major delay in getting this chapter up, but I swear that I will try really hard to find the time to update. The characters of CSI don't belong to me…but there's always next season, right?

*                      *                      *

            Warrick was waiting at the gate when Nick arrived. Warrick immediately noted the pallor of his friend's complexion and the exhaustion in his eyes. Nick looked as if he hadn't slept since Catherine had phoned him, and Warrick was willing to bet that he wouldn't get much sleep over the next couple of nights either. Nick's eyes were heavy, as he carried the burden of Greg's fate within their depths. He also had to be concerned about Sara, and those eyes betrayed his deepest fears. Warrick was worried for him. The rest of the team had had time to process the information concerning the accident. Nick had been given sketchy details at best and he had had nothing to do but stew over it since the fateful phone call.

"How is she?" was the greeting that Warrick got.

"Hanging in there. You know Sara. She is a fighter. She just won't quit, even when the odds say she should".

Nick nodded, though he looked thoroughly unappeased by the answer.

"How is he?" was the next question. The inflection was different this time. There was none of the trembling concern that he'd had for Sara. Instead there was a disappointed resignation. The question was obligatory, but there could be no satisfactory answer.

Warrick thought carefully before responding.

"Physically he's alright. Head injury, some banged up ribs, but overall he's no worse for wear.

Emotionally is a different story. He's feeling guilty, of course. But he's also short tempered, which I am not entirely sure I understand. I tried to talk to him, but he just got really sharp with me. It's almost like he doesn't want to try and find an explanation. It's as if he's just accepted what happened and he is willing to let it eat away at him. I may not be an expert on these types of things, but something about the way he is dealing with this just seems off to me."

Nick contemplated this as they walked towards the baggage claim.

"Maybe he's trying not to deal with it" Nick said finally. "You know, maybe he just doesn't want to think about it."

Warrick looked skeptical as he handed Nick his luggage.

"I don't know. It just doesn't feel right to me."

Nick shrugged.

"Who knows? We can't possibly know how he feels right now. We shouldn't speculate. I'll try talking to him later. He might be more receptive to conversation after he's had a while to let it sink in."

They didn't speak again until they reached the car. Before he climbed in the passenger side, Nick looked at Warrick.

"How did this happen?" he asked quietly. Warrick wasn't sure how to answer. He decided to play dumb.

"How did what happen?"

Nick gave him a long look.

"You know, _this_", he said, gesturing to nothing in particular. "When did Greg change? When did we stop seeing that things weren't alright anymore? Did we all just stop caring?"

"Nick-"

"No Warrick. It's true and you know it. Everything's been changing, but we've all been pretending that everything has stayed the same. But you know as well as I do that that is a lie. Things are changing and no one's done a damn thing to help anyone else out. We can all blame Greg for the accident, but at the heart of the matter is that his drinking himself into oblivion was a cry for help. Maybe if we'd been listening, instead of being so consumed by our own trivial worries, we would have heard him sooner. Maybe _we're the ones to blame for the accident."_

With that, he climbed into the car and slammed the door. Warrick stared across the roof of the car. Nick had a point, even if it did hurt like hell to hear it. There were cracks in the team. No, they had moved beyond cracks. The team was rife with gaping holed. This had been a long time coming. It was only too bad that it could only be recognized in hindsight. Warrick hated to admit it, but they had all let the accident happen. They may not have been driving the car, but they may have been the ones who put Greg behind the wheel. There was only one thing that Warrick knew was the right thing to say this time.

"A word of advice, man: don't pitch this theory to Grissom."

*                      *                      *

"He what?!"

Warrick winced as Nick's voice reverberated in the confines of the car. He rubbed his already aching head. He had just told Nick about Grissom's outburst earlier that day. Warrick gave himself a hard mental slap. He had intended to bring it up gently and explain it in the best possible terms. Unfortunately, his overworked, under-caffeinated brain prevented him from doing so. What was supposed to be a well-timed explanation came out as an "Oh, by the way…" statement. No wonder Nick looked so appalled.

"How could he?" Nick continued. "I know Greg screwed up, but for God's sake, Grissom's the supervisor. He's supposed to be the voice of reason, not insanity! You see what I mean? This is what I was talking about earlier. This is exactly what is wrong with this team. This is why things hap-"

"Stop. Right there. Just stop. I know you're upset and I know you've got every right to be. But Grissom's also got reason to be upset and if you go into that hospital and run your mouth about how Grissom's mine, and everyone else's action are what caused this accident, then I guarantee you that you will cause irreparable damage to this team. I don't disagree with you Nick, but I'm not a hundred percent sure I agree with you either. I think we all influence one another with our actions and attitudes, but we don't _make_ the others do something. So whether or not we made Greg feel down on himself, not a single one of us forced him in that car."

The two opposing viewpoints hung in the air for a painfully long moment. Nick and Warrick with both silent as they tried to calm their tempers and find words that wouldn't drive a wedge between them. 

It was Nick who broke the awkward silence. "I guess we just do the proverbial 'agree to disagree' thing then."

Warrick smiled and nodded. "Ok. But if you sound like you are going to start lecturing Grissom, I'm going to let you know."

Nick rolled his eyes and muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

*                      *                      *

They had arranged to meet Grissom in the front lobby of the hospital. It was more informal and less antiseptic than the waiting room of the ICU. They found him sitting in a chair working on a crossword puzzle. He didn't look up until they were practically on top of him. When he did meet their eyes, they were horrified to see how red his eyes were.

"Oh my God – Grissom, is Sara-?" Nick started to ask.

Grissom waved his hand in an uncharacteristically dismissive gesture.

"She's stable. Comatose, but stable."

"Then why-?"

"Do I look like I've been crying?" Grissom spat out. "Perhaps it's because in the last twelve hours or so, everything has fallen apart. Sara's hurt, Greg did something I never thought him capable of and now Brass tells me that there are criminal charges pending…"

"What?!" Nick and Warrick cried in unison.

Grissom nodded. "There's an inquest being conducted as we speak. If Sara lives, Greg will likely get a DUI citation and maybe a charge of reckless endangerment. But if she dies…" He couldn't finish.

"Then he'll be charged – and no doubt convicted – of vehicular manslaughter." Nick said bitterly.

Grissom removed his glasses and tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Look, Nick, earlier today I sort of lost my temper with Greg." Grissom said.

"To put it mildly." Nick replied.

Grissom looked sharply at Warrick. 

"You've heard." It was a statement, not a question. Warrick became very interested in the carpet. Grissom continued while continuing to glare at Warrick.

"Anyways, I think Greg could probably use a friendly face right about now. Sara is in good condition for the time being, and Catherine is on her way to see her. She made it very clear that she was next in line, so you'll have to wait to see Sara anyways. Why don't you go check on Greg and then come back here?"

It was a reasonable suggestion. Nick wanted to see Sara, but Grissom's point made sense. He would come back in a little bit. He was just about to leave, but he couldn't help asking:

"Don't you think you were too hard on him?"

Warrick made a warning noise under his breath. Nick ignored it and looked expectantly at Grissom, awaiting an explanation.

Grissom's eyes flashed dangerously. "I don't think I was hard enough!" he said heatedly. "How can you even ask me that? Don't you understand the magnitude of what he did?"

Nick felt a wave of anger wash over him. "Well you know Grissom, maybe if you had- OW!" 

Warrick had just given the back of Nick's arm a very hard, very painful pinch. Nick rubbed his arm and glared at his friend. Warrick's message was very clear: Back off. This wasn't the time, and it sure wasn't the place. Nick turned back to Grissom.

"Call us if you need anything" he said shortly before turning and walking away.

Grissom watched until their retreating backs faded from view. He was acutely aware now that there were some serious issues lurking beneath the surface structure of the team. But he didn't much care about them at the moment. His only thoughts were for Sara.

*                      *                      *

"Aren't you coming in?" Nick looked at Warrick who was gripping the steering wheel of the still running car. They were in Greg's driveway but Warrick looked frozen in his seat.

"I don't know if I can" Warrick responded tightly. "I can't seem to look at him without judging him and that is the last thing he needs right now."

"Are sure? He'd probably be glad to see you" suggested Nick.

Warrick laughed without any humor and shook his head. "After this morning? I doubt that. No, you go ahead."

Nick decided not to argue any further. There were some battles that just weren't worth fighting anymore. He went to the door and knocked. He fiddled with his watch as he anxiously waited for Greg to answer. He wasn't sure what he should say. They never taught you how to deal with this at the academy. He was on his own. An eternity later the door slowly swung open. Greg's bleary, tired eyes sized up his visitor.

"Oh. It's you" was all he said. He left the door open and walked back into the house. Nick was taken aback. That wasn't what he'd expected at all. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn that he was at the wrong house. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He followed Greg into the living room. He opened his mouth to speak, but Greg beat him to it.

"Are you here to lecture me to? Or maybe you want to take a cheap shot at me like Grissom did. Either way, I'm not much in the mood for company right now, or ever again, so say what you want and then get the hell out."

Nick stared at him. "Excuse me? I come here to give you some support, and you cop an attitude with me? Where in the hell do you get off Greg?"

"You know what, save it. I heard it all from Warrick this morning. I didn't care then, and I don't care now. I made a mistake. Why do you people continuing to harp on it? Does it bring you some kind of perverse pleasure?"

Nick couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I don't understand you. You are the one who is at fault here, and you have the nerve to play the victim? I'm sorry, but you deserve everything that anyone has said to you. It may hurt, but if you recall, Sara is laying in a hospital, fighting to live. You are not allowed to have hurt feelings right now, because you are the one who put her there!"

"Don't you think I know that?!" Greg's voice broke and he took a couple of deep breaths. When he spoke again, his voice was weak and despondent. "Nick I know what I did. I am at fault here. I fucked up royally. Is that what you want me to say? Because believe me, I have already had this conversation with myself. It's my bed, now I have to lay in it."

"No. I don't believe that" Nick said as he stopped to stand in front of Greg. "Yeah you messed up. You messed up big time. And yeah, you are going to feel guilty, with good reason. But I don't buy this whole 'Let's accept it and move on' speech. You are the guy who always has a million explanations for everything. So don't sit here and tell me that you are just going to accept this without offering us some kind of explanation for why this happened. You owe us that much."

Greg was rubbing his eyes frantically. "Nick, please let it go. I can't do this. There is no explanation. I made a mistake and that's all there is to it. So please don't keep asking me to give you a reason because I can't. This is my burden. It's my albatross to bear around my neck. There is nothing anyone can say or do. I can't tell you anything."

Nick gave his friend a careful look. "Can't say anything – or won't?" he asked. 

Greg shook his head and turned away. "Please just go now. I don't want to talk about this anymore. Go see Sara. She is the one who is deserving of your time and attention, not me. Be with her. Let me deal with this."

"You're not dealing with it Greg. I don't know why, but you're not. And you're holding back on me. There is more to this story, but you don't trust me enough to tell me. I want to help you Greg, but I can't do that if you are unwilling to help yourself."

Greg remained silent as he stared stubbornly at the wall. Nick sighed.

"Fine. I'll go. But if you ever need to talk to me, I am always ready to listen." Nick quietly exited the house and went back to the waiting car.

*                      *                      *

Across town, Catherine and Brass were conducting an inquiry of their own. 

They were determined to piece together the events of the previous night.


	6. The Road Less Travelled

Author's Note: Another weekend, another update. Every time I try to sit down and write, the cell phone is ringing, requesting my presence at work. So very annoying. But you will be happy to know that I dedicate my free time to you, the readers. So please read....and review if you are so inclined. None of this belongs to me, though if it did I could escape the iron grasp that the pool seems to have on me (sorry, I am in a complaining sort of mood lately). 

*                      *                      *

"How did anyone survive this?"

            The question broke through the stunned silence that surrounded the crash site. The car was mangled beyond recognition. The hood was crumpled as easily as if it were a piece of paper. The center of the hood was buried into a section of a mile-high tree that was now splintered and severed at the point of impact. Crews were being called in to cut down what remained of that tree; for fear that it would come crashing down on some poor unsuspecting motorist. Metal and debris littered the ground and area surrounding the crash site. The miniscule pieces of the car were scattered across an impossibly large circumference. People would be finding remnants of the car for many moths to come.

            Upon closer inspection of the car, the nauseating presence of blood made even the most seasoned investigator want to turn and run. The blood seemed so much more devastating when it came from people that they knew. There was blood on the steering wheel, as well as the passenger side dash. The glass of the windshield was splintered and cracked yet it was still miraculously intact. There was only minimal glass inside the car. Thank God for small miracles. Despite the lack of glass, the simple fact remained obvious: the passengers of this car should have died. Yet they hadn't. Maybe there was a higher power at work. Maybe it was just a case of dumb luck. But whatever the reason, the vehicle's precious cargo had survived. Too bad they hadn't survived unscathed.

            There was still the matter of piecing together the events of the previous evening, a task that was going to prove to be exceedingly difficult. One of the witnesses was comatose and the other wasn't talking. The evidence was all that they had to go on. And fortunately for them, the evidence was going to be speaking loud and clear. Catherine and Brass surveyed the scene of the accident with a critical eye. Though her question had gone unanswered, it had not been ignored. It was still resonating in both their minds. Setting her jaw, Catherine moved closer to the car.

"God, what a mess" she murmured as she crouched beside the open driver's side door. Brass joined her and sighed.

"Catherine are you sure you're OK to do this? Because if you're not, tell me now and I will get someone else down here."

"No Jim, I'm fine, it's just..."

He interrupted. "No. There can be no 'it's just' here. You are either fully committed or you're not. There is no room for waffling with your emotions. This is a criminal investigation now."

"Greg's not a criminal" she whispered with tears in her voice.

Brass' voice didn't soften. "Yes Catherine, he is. He became a criminal the minute he climbed behind the wheel of this car while intoxicated. And I know that this is hard on you. But there can be no room for emotions now. Greg's future depends on us remaining objective.

Catherine nodded, her eyes still moist. Brass' eyes softened and he looked her square in the face. 

"Catherine, I don't want to see him wind up in jail any more than you do. That's why I need you to work with me on this. I need your expertise. We need to find any evidence that would prove that Greg's drinking was not the only factors in this accident. We need to allow for any and all outside circumstances that may have led to this crash. And that begins here, with this car."

She drew in her breath and put on her game face. Her shoulders straightened. "Right. Let's get down to business."

She began to make verbal notes as she assessed the interior of the car.

"There is only one airbag in this car, on the driver's side. It deployed upon impact. The presence of blood is consistent with a crash like this. We know that Greg sustained a head injury, so it is safe to assume that most of this belongs to him. Looks like the blood is smeared across the dash, presumably from Greg trying to get out of the car. He was also likely leaning across to check on Sara."

Brass was busy looking at the windshield. He consulted a file folder in his hands.

"According to the rescue crew, Sara was not wearing a seatbelt at the time of their arrival."

Catherine looked at him, then back at the windshield. "So you're thinking that she should have sustained head injuries as well?"

"I'm thinking she should have gone right through the damn glass. How is it that the glass has such little damage done to it?"

She shuddered involuntarily at the mental picture that his statement procured. "Well she didn't go through, so unless she is a walking definition of a miracle, then she must have been wearing her seatbelt. Greg probably took it off to check on her."

Brass looked irritated. "He shouldn't have touched her. The seatbelt would have kept her immobilized until the rescue crews got there. He shouldn't have done anything."

"There are a lot of things he shouldn't have done" snapped Catherine. "I thought we were trying to be objective here. It sounds to me like you have already made up your mind as to what happened. Why don't you just go arrest Greg right now, since finding evidence is apparently irrelevant."

"Hey I'm pointing out the obvious" he said. "Don't you dare accuse me of compromising my integrity as an investigator. As the **lead investigator I might add. Do you have any idea what it took to get me placed on this case? I practically had to sell my soul to do it. And do you know why I did?"**

She answered, "Because you want to help Greg."

"That's right. I am willing to entertain the notion that there may have been outside factors that may have resulted in this accident. Any other investigator wouldn't. They would already have Greg in custody, and let me tell you that I am already in hot water for not filing charges immediately. Most people think that this case is open and shut. So please don't act like I am the bad guy here. I am trying to remain objective Catherine, I really am. But the evidence makes that very difficult."

Catherine could see that the vein in his temple was throbbing. She opted to try a more diplomatic tactic.

"Look, the car itself doesn't look like its going to yield any more answers. Let's get the guys to tow it back to the lab so that it can be processed. In the meantime, you and I will finish with the scene and then head over to the bar and get statements from the employee's there." 

Brass nodded his consent. He extending a hand to Catherine and helped her up the grassy incline. Once they were firmly on the asphalt, Catherine pulled out her camera. They walked back until they came to the place where the skid marks began. She photographed them and then knelt down for a closer look. She scanned the highway.

"Only one set" she murmured. "Rules out the idea that another vehicle came into the picture."

"So what do you think?" Brass asked. "Maybe an animal came out and he hit the brakes to avoid it?"

She shook her head. "No. There are no animal tracks in the dirt on either side of the highway. Plus, his reaction time would have been hampered by the alcohol. If there had been anything in the road, he would have hit it. It is highly improbable that he could have stopped in time, given his condition."

Brass asked, "Well what was it then? Please tell me that you have some good explanation that I can take to the D.A."

Catherine snapped a few more photos before turning to face him. 

"The only explanation I have is that there is nothing to suggest that he hit the brakes in order to avoid something, thus initiating the skid. Rather, based on the treads, the brakes were applied **after the car began to careen out of control. It looks as if he totaled the car all on his own."**

Brass was beginning to get desperate. "Could it have been the weather? It was raining really hard. Maybe the road was slick."

"Look around Jim! We're on a straight stretch of road. You know as well as I do that the weather didn't have a thing to do with this accident." She put her camera away and hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. 

There was finality to her resolve that worried Brass. If Catherine couldn't find external factors that could help reduce the charges against Greg, then no one could. Things looked like they were going to get a lot worse before they got better. Catherine looked at her watch and swore sharply.

"Hey Jim? Mind if we make a quick detour on the way to interview the employees from the bar? Grissom is expecting me at the hospital. It's my turn to go in and see Sara. I just wouldn't feel right if I didn't visit before I went back to work on the case."

Brass smiled. "Of course I don't mind. Let's go."

*                      *                      *

Across town, Warrick was listening to the ringing of the phone in his ear. He had been trying to call Greg for the last half hour. The phone just rang and rang and rang.

Because Greg wasn't home to answer it.


	7. When the Bad Gets Worse

Author's Note: Ummmm…..sorry? I guess that is kind of inadequate but that's all I've got. I hated leaving you guys hanging like that, but the pool (the evil, evil pool) refused to relinquish me from its chlorinated clutches. This has resulted in me working ever single day for the last three and a half weeks. So again I am sorry, and I hope that this makes up for it. One thing that hasn't changed is that I still own nothing.

*                      *                      *

"Where the hell did Greg go?"

Warrick asked the question to the empty passenger seat of his car and instantly looked around to see if any passersby had noticed. He was acutely aware that a sure warning sign of insanity was talking to oneself. However, he reasoned, you didn't really need to be concerned by asking questions to yourself; you needed to worry when you started answering. He desperately wished that he didn't have to ask this particular question. He didn't understand where Greg could be. He wouldn't have gone out, not in his state of mind. If he was at home, he surely would have picked up his phone.

_Unless he's avoiding you_, the little voice in his head whispered. Warrick ignored the inner chiding. This wasn't his fault, not really. Ok, maybe he had come across more forceful than necessary, and maybe he hadn't been terribly sympathetic to Greg's plight, but he was one of the good guys here.

_Are you?_ fired back the little voice. Warrick frowned. What did that mean? 

_Maybe you're more concerned with looking like the upstanding one than you are with helping a friend._

Well now that was silly - wasn't it? Warrick tried to think back to his emotions and actions over the last twenty-four hours. Sure he may have tried to act extra controlled but that was only because they were facing a situation that lacked any semblance of control. And yeah he had been hesitant to speak up in Greg's defense but that too was understandable. He didn't think Greg was right by any stretch of the imagination. They all knew that. He had to stand behind the team.

_Jeez, when did you become such a little lap dog?_

Hey! This is what I really believe, Warrick thought angrily to himself. He was annoyed with the little voice now. He wasn't just trying to make himself look better in the eyes of the team. He had no reason to.

_Oh no? _challenged the little voice. _So you aren't trying to make up for your previous screw ups?_

Like what? Warrick thought crossly. 

_Like your gambling problem? Or the fact that you compromised a highly important case for some personal gain? _

Warrick hesitated. There were incidents in his not so recent past that he was in the doghouse for. He had been carrying the guilt of his mistakes around with him for some time now. But surely he wasn't trying to divert the team's anger and frustration away from him during a time of crisis? He had to admit that this accident had certainly shifted much of the accusatory glances off of him and on to Greg. But he wouldn't take advantage of that, he was sure of it.

_If that's what helps you sleep at night._

He was growing weary of the little voice now. He wanted to believe that he was being the best possible friend he could be to Greg given the circumstances that they were in. The little voice was making it harder and harder to do that. It was drawing on all his doubts that he had about the way in which he was dealing with the situation. He thought he was doing the right thing by remaining firm in his beliefs but the flaws in his plan were becoming clear. Greg was more withdrawn then he ought to be. Any fool could see that he was not dealing well with this at all. He needed someone to remain objective, someone who would listen to him without passing judgment on him. Then there was the matter of the investigation. Greg needed people on his end of the case who would move heaven and earth to find an alternative explanation for what had happened. Right now all he had was Catherine and Brass, who were great investigators but hard-nosed critics. Greg needed someone on his side that could see past the mistakes and could help him sort through the mess that his life had become. The outcome may not be the desired one, but at least he would be able to say that he had one true friend who stuck through it with him.

_But instead of being that friend, you're sitting here, assuming somebody else will take that responsibility?_

That's not true, Warrick thought. He wanted to help Greg, he really did. It was just that…..

_You're afraid of what Grissom will say._

Warrick flinched slightly. That struck a nerve. He was afraid of what Grissom would say. Warrick knew that anyone who even looked like they may be siding with Greg would face the wrath of Gil Grissom. Warrick wasn't so sure he could do that. He didn't think he wanted to be in Grissom's bad books. He had worked so hard to earn the man's respect and it was difficult to fathom throwing it all away to help someone else.

_Well that's it then,_ the little voice said coolly. _You're selfish._

"Shut up!" Warrick yelled out loud then. A woman climbing into the car two spots over from him gave him a scandalized look. Warrick felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. Thankfully, he phone rang at that moment, saving him from further arguments with himself. 

Warrick answered his phone with a gruff and slightly flustered hello. He listened for a moment and then drew in a sharp breath. He murmured a hurried thanks to the person on the other end and hung up. He looked at his watch and then made a phone call of his own. Trying hard to keep his voice neutral, he made an inquiry that would tell him exactly what kind of deadline he was on. He listened, his panic mounting with each word. He made up some excuse to get off the phone and threw the car into gear. He was going to be cutting it so close.

He just prayed he wasn't too late.

*                      *                      *

The young man stood shivering in the quickly dropping temperature. It looked like a chill was moving in for the second night in a row. Yet he knew that his trembling was not only a response to the cool air. He was trembling because he was risking an awful lot right now. If he didn't play these cards right, he was going to make matters a lot worse for everyone involved. He didn't know why he cared so much. He didn't owe any of them anything, yet here he was, ready and willing to make what could well be either the best decision or the biggest mistake of his life. A set of headlights swept across the deserted back entrance where he stood. His heart stopped for a half a second. What if it was them? He was relieved when the figure climbed out of the car and started walking towards him. This man was alone. His heart resumed its normal rhythms. The man who was approaching glanced at his watch and quickened his pace. He reached the young man's side and studied his face in the dim light. The stranger could be trusted.

"What happened?" 

The young man sighed. 

"I got a phone call from your colleague just before I spoke to you. He explained what information he was after and asked me what I knew. I told him the truth: that I don't know any details that I didn't find out second hand. He asked if I would enquire if anyone knew who he was talking about. As soon as I heard the description, I knew. Of course, I didn't say that. I told the man he was welcome to come on down and talk to the others. But I also knew that I couldn't let this happen. I remembered the name he had said earlier, and a couple of phone calls later, I tracked you down. And here we are." The young man looked up expectantly, hoping for praise and fearing reprimand.

"Where is he?" was the next question. "We don't have much time".

The stranger, a young man named Jack Edmonds led the way into The Broken Barstool. Warrick Brown followed him, trying to prepare some sort of adequate response that would not draw any attention to them. Jack pointed to a booth near the back of the bar. Warrick drew nearer and saw the sight that he had feared. 

Greg was slumped to the side in the booth, clearly intoxicated. There had to be six different bottles around him, as well as several glasses that had contained the stronger drinks. Jack explained that Greg had been drinking for the last hour straight, until Jack had ordered him cut off. Jack had been about to call a cab when the phone rang. It was Brass on the other end, asking if anyone had been working the night before who would recognize a man who was being investigated on alcohol related charges. The description he gave was Greg's. Jack understood that Greg's pain went far beyond the events of the previous evening; otherwise he would have never come back. You don't become a bartender and not learn how to read people, Jack explained. He had known that Greg needed help. He recalled that Greg had mentioned Warrick's name, as well as the crime lab during casual conversation while he was still sober. Jack made some phone calls and using a little bit of deception, managed to get Warrick's cell phone number. 

Now here they were.

Warrick really wanted to rage at Greg and find out what was going on with him, but now was not the time. He had to get Greg out of here before Brass and Catherine came in. He knew that he was interfering with a criminal investigation but he didn't much care at the moment. The little voice had accused him of being selfish earlier. Warrick realized now that the voice was his conscience and he didn't want to be the one who let Greg down. He thanked Jack for the risk he took. Jack only smiled and urged Warrick to hurry. Warrick grabbed Greg's arm and forcibly pulled him from the booth. Greg let out a rumble of complaint.

"Whaddya think you're doin'?" he slurred.

"Saving your life, now MOVE!" Warrick snapped. He half dragged, half carried Greg from the bar and out to the waiting car. He pushed Greg into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt. Greg was resting his head on the window, completely oblivious to the world at that moment. Warrick quickly hopped in the driver's side and sped from the lot.

They didn't leave a moment too soon. Catherine and Brass were just entering the bar as the Tahoe disappeared from sight.

*                      *                      * 

_This is not about trying to go back in time_

_This is not about where I'll be a year down the line_

_It's just moment to moment_

_Surviving somehow_

_This is not about then, this is just about now_

("Just About Now", Faith Hill)

*                      *                      *

Warrick was pacing Greg's kitchen, trying very hard not to grab the pot from the counter and hurl it at the young man's head. He must have had more self-restraint than he thought because thus far he had managed to not completely lose it. He was quietly contained the car ride home and he hadn't pushed Greg headlong through the front door as he had thought he would. Greg sensed that Warrick was little more than a ticking time bomb, as he remained quiet and struggled hard to find some ounce of coherency before he spoke. He watched Warrick warily as the man paced like a tiger that was awaiting feeding. Greg tried the only tactic that made sense.

"Well thanks for your help. I guess I'll just head off to bed…"

"SIT DOWN!" 

The words were not spoken but rather roared. Even in his alcohol induced fog, Greg recognized a warning sign when he saw one. Warrick pointed to the couch and glared at the young man. Greg stumbled wearily over to it. Warrick didn't speak as he made a cup of strong black coffee and all but slammed it down in front of Greg.

"Drink" he said coldly. "And listen." 

Greg obliged as Warrick began to speak in a voice that was mechanical and distant. He sounded far too calm, even to Greg's ears.

"I am only going to say this once and after that you are on your own. Tonight was the final straw Greg. I was sitting in my car trying to get in touch with you and all I could think is that I had somehow failed you as a friend. Then I received a phone call telling me that you were practically passed out in the bar where this whole mess started. Something became very clear to me as I rushed over there so that Brass and Catherine wouldn't find you. I didn't fail you: you failed me. You failed the team. And most of all, you failed yourself. I am so angry at you right now that you can't even begin to imagine it. I could yell at you, I could throw things at you, I could even hit you. But it wouldn't matter. Because you don't care anymore. If you did, then you would have never allowed things to escalate this far. You would have never gotten behind the wheel of that car and you certainly wouldn't have gone back to that bar again tonight. I don't know how much of this is penetrating that thick skull of yours, or how much you'll even remember when you sober up. If nothing else, remember this: You are a failure. It pains me to say it, but until you recognize and try to deal with this, you are nothing but a failure."

Warrick stood to go. 

"Wait!" Greg jumped to his feet and instantly regretted the action. He lurched and barely made it to the kitchen before vomiting miserably into the sink. When he turned back around, Warrick could see the tears on his cheeks. Greg slumped to the floor and his shoulders began to shake. He looked so small and pathetic that Warrick couldn't help it. He sank to the floor beside Greg and forced the younger man to look at him.

"Greg, what happened to you? When did we lose you?"

Greg let out a rough cough. "I've been gone so long that I don't even know anymore. I just know that I seem to have lost myself and I don't know how to get back. And I'm scared…" he trailed off as a new round of sobs overtook him. Warrick felt the slightest twinge of guilt. Greg was going through hard times and he was on the verge of losing it completely.

"Greg I want to help you, I really do. But I can't when you continue to engage in such destructive behavior. Do you have any idea of what would have happened if Catherine had found you at the bar tonight?"

"Don't you understand?! It wouldn't have mattered! I am already going to pay for this. I just didn't want to feel anything anymore. This is all wrong. It wasn't supposed to end like this." 

Warrick was confused. "Greg I don't think I understand. What wasn't supposed to end like this?"

"I can't tell you" whispered Greg. He looked far sadder than any person should ever look. "I made a really stupid mistake. I can't fix that. I just have to figure things out for myself."

"Greg, what aren't you telling me?"

Greg shook his head. "Too much depends on me being quiet" he whispered softly. Warrick just stared.

"Greg we want to help…"

"You want to judge me!" he spat. "You've already made up your minds, so what does it matter anymore?"

He went to stand up but lost his balance. Warrick reacted quickly and caught him before he could fall. As he grabbed Greg, he put pressure on the existing chest wounds. Greg gasped sharply in pain.

"God Greg, I'm sorry. Come on, why don't you go to bed? I'll help you get settled and then I am sleeping on the couch. No arguments" he added as Greg opened his mouth to object.

Warrick waited patiently in the hall as Greg changed into sweatpants. The pain in his chest was causing difficulty pulling his shirt on. After a brief struggle, he conceded that he needed some assistance. Warrick was helping him and couldn't help but notice the angry bruising on Greg's chest. The ugly purple and blue marks where the seatbelt had restrained him ran from his shoulder across to his torso. It must have felt ten times worse than it looked. As Greg settled into bed, he looked up at Warrick desperately.

"Please don't give up on me." he whispered as his heavy lids began to close.

"Then don't give up on yourself" Warrick whispered back. He waited by the bedside until Greg was asleep. He then went down to the couch but found he was unable to give into the exhaustion that had been sweeping over him all day. His mind was racing.

Greg was hiding something. And Warrick had a feeling that the truth was looking him right in the face but he was too blind to see it. He lay awake for hours trying to figure it out, but finally allowed sleep to overtake him. He slept restlessly. His mind was replaying the events of the last day and half over and over again in his dreams. So many factors to consider. They flew by at lightening speed. 

Then somewhere in the depths of his subconscious, the piece that he had been struggling to find fell into place. Warrick sat upright with his heart pounding. 

And he knew.


	8. Isn't it Obvious?

Author's Note: Wow. I am surprised by all the reviews. Grateful, but surprised. Who would have thought that so many people cared about my little tale of woe? Please keep the reviews coming. If you do, I promise to keep the chapters coming. None of the CSI characters belong to me. Now that is a cause for woe.

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            The first rays of morning light were slipping through the blinds in Greg's living room, but Warrick had already been up for hours. His late night revelation had been gnawing at him. He had impatiently waited until an acceptable hour when he could arrange what would undoubtedly be an emotion and very telling meeting. He called Grissom to get an update on Sara. There was no noticeable change in her condition but there was some promising news. The doctors were pleased to see that she had made it through the night with no further complications. They felt strongly that she was over the worst and that she would make a full recovery. She was still in a coma but it looked as though she would awaken from it, barring any unforeseen circumstance. It was now a waiting game. The doctors had told Grissom that she could wake up ten minutes from now or ten weeks from now. There was no way of knowing how long her body would remain in this condition. Warrick was relieved to hear that Sara was going to pull through. He hated to admit it to himself, but there was more than one reason why he was pleased. There was the obvious reason, that being she would be okay and they would have her back. But there was also the small matter of the investigation. If Sara lived, as it now appeared she would, the charges against Greg would not be so severe. There would be no jail time for him. That would have provided Warrick some small measure of comfort if he was not now aware of what Greg was hiding. The new information changed the face of the entire incident and Warrick wasn't sure anymore how he was supposed to feel. He was disappointed, appalled and touched, all at the same time. His head was swimming with information and he desperately wanted to get out of Greg's house and off to his meeting. He scrawled a hurried note to Greg and taped it to the bathroom mirror so that Greg would be sure to see it. Satisfied that everything was under control at Greg's house for the time being, he grabbed his keys and headed off to blow the investigation wide open.

*                      *                      *

            It was the incessant chirping of a bird that lured Greg back into the land of the living. He let out a groan and wished that the outside world came with a mute button. He tried to burrow deeper beneath his covers but his peaceful slumber had been disrupted. With a sigh he threw back the blanket. He made no move to sit up. The sunlight that was filtering into his room had made him acutely aware of the throbbing pain behind his eyes. His head felt like it was in a vice. There was a heaviness to it that made him question his ability to even pick his head up off the pillow. He grimaced as the taste in his mouth made its way to the front of his consciousness. Ugh. It felt like something had crawled into his mouth and died. His teeth had a nasty moss-like quality about them and his tongue felt like it was coated in turpentine. He rubbed his hands over his hair and felt it stick up in about twenty different directions. He was almost afraid to see what he must look like. He knew all too well how he must appear: he looked like someone suffering from the almighty hangover. He tried very hard to remember what had happened the previous evening. He remembered going to the bar and he remembered the first few round of drinks. After that everything started to look fuzzy, like watching a television station that's not quite in focus. He was vaguely aware of being dragged out of the bar and he was pretty sure he had thrown up in the kitchen. But what else was he forgetting? He had the feeling that there was something he should be able to recall. He thought hard. Well, he knew that Warrick had been there. He remembered Warrick being very upset. But what was it that Warrick had said to him? 

Then it hit him. 

Failure.

Warrick had told him that he was a failure. Now that he remembered, the words rolled around in his head and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to shut them out. He hated the sound of those words. He hated the fact that Warrick had said them. He hated them even more because they were true. He had failed. He had really messed it up. He wished that he could go back to two nights ago. If he could, he would change the way the story turned out. He would have made a better decision. He had thought that everything would be okay but it was abundantly clear that he had been wrong. There was no going back now.

He finally managed to pull himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He knew he ought to try and clean himself up a bit and then go and apologize to Warrick. Not that it would make a lot of difference but it had to be done. Greg stumbled to the bathroom and was about to turn on the water when he saw the note taped to the mirror. Frowning, he pulled it off and opened it.

_Greg,_

_Hope you are feeling better. I had to take off. Early meeting._

_I know everything. Stay in the house. Do NOT answer the phone. Wait for me._

_It will be okay, I promise._

_Warrick_

Greg felt the room spin and he had to grab the counter for support. If Warrick had figured everything out, then….

Greg was in worse trouble than he was before.

*                      *                      *

            CSI headquarters was alive with activity despite the early hour. Warrick made his way upstairs. He found he felt oddly detached from the lab. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had been here, working on cases. It had seemed so important then. But in the last two days his priorities had shifted drastically. His primary concerns were his friends, not fingerprints. Nothing mattered except Greg and Sara. It was almost surreal to be surrounded by coworkers and yet feel a million miles away from them. He watched as Ecklie shot orders at his team. He watched Vincent, the daytime lab tech, process evidence. He watched as people bustled about, exchanging information about their respective cases. He watched all of this with a feigned interest. The truth was, it all seemed so futile now. How could they be concerned with helping other people when they couldn't even help the people who were right in front of them? Warrick wondered how long he had been a drone of the system, how long it had been since he had thought about anything other than work. Up until two days ago, his mind focused only on the evidence and the case at hand. There was no room for anything of the personal nature. In the time since the accident he had grown to hate being alone with his thoughts. Because every time he was, he found that he had neglected the important things in his life. He had never given a passing thought to the rest of the team and their personal problems. The only time he had ever thought about their lives is when it affected a case. Like when Nick had been dealing with Kristy's death. Or when Eddie had died. But if their personal problems didn't intersect with a case, then it never made it into his consciousness. As he rounded the corner to the conference room, Warrick marveled at the fact that his whole mindset had been revolutionized in such a small span of time. But he didn't have time to ponder it further, because once again a case was the number one priority. However, when the case was Greg, Warrick knew that he had to invest all of his energies in it. Especially in spite of recent developments.

He entered the conference room and shut the door tightly behind him. He sat at the head of the table and faced his colleagues.

"Thanks for coming on such short notice" he said.

Brass and Catherine looked politely puzzled. Warrick continued.

"I have some important information that you two need to hear first. But I need to lay some ground rules."

Catherine spoke up. "Warrick, what is this all about? We don't have a lot of time to waste here."

"Catherine, I know that. But this information will change the case. And if we mishandle it, it can cause irreparable damage."

A thick silence hung over the table as Warrick allowed the information to sink in. He cleared his throat and set out his rules.

"There are only two things I need the two of you to promise me. First, nothing I tell you leaves this room. It doesn't go to Grissom, it doesn't go to the chief, it doesn't go anywhere. This is very important. There is a time and a place for everything, and I assure you that this is neither the time nor the place to go divulging this information. Second, do not look upon this information the way an investigator would. Look at this from the perspective of Greg's friend. I know it's difficult and I know you have a job to do, but sometimes you need to deal with things personally before you deal with them professionally."

It was Brass who spoke next. "Warrick, this sounds serious. I need to ask: is this going to hinder and obstruct our investigation?"

Warrick was undeterred. "It might. But you have to trust me. That's the only guarantee I can make. If you are willing to agree to my terms, tell me now. Otherwise I pull my offer off the table and find another way to deal this."

Brass and Catherine exchanged dark looks. Neither one of them particularly liked this but they needed whatever information Warrick had. 

Catherine sighed. "Alright Warrick. Tell us what you've got."

Warrick leaned in close and began to speak. He told them everything, including the events of the previous night. He told them how he had pieced it all together. He told them what the implications were likely to be. When he finished, Catherine struggled to find words that would depict the severity of the situation.

"This is bad. Oh, this is so bad."

*                      *                      *

Greg had heeded Warrick's instructions. He had been too afraid not to. If Warrick knew everything (and Greg had no reason to believe he didn't) then this whole mess was about to get worse. He sat around his house unsure of what the next move would be. He just hoped he would be ready for it. He had nearly jumped out of his skin when the doorbell rang. He crept into the foyer and peered through the peephole. Oh God, he thought. Warrick was on the front step - with Catherine and Brass. With shaking hands he unlocked the door. 

His face gave it all away. Catherine and Brass saw the understanding, the fear and the resolution in his eyes. They knew that he knew that they knew. It was not quite out in the open yet. It couldn't be until the words came from his mouth. He gestured weakly for them to come in. Warrick gave him what he hoped was a reassuring look. Greg didn't think he could feel less reassured at this moment. He meekly followed them into his living room.

"Sit down" Brass said firmly. Greg sat.

"Greg, Warrick told us what he figured out" said Catherine kindly. "But I want to hear it from you. I'd like you to tell me what really happened the other night." She looked at him expectantly. He wished he didn't have to do this. He wished there was some other way. But he was all out of alternatives. 

"I guess it's real obvious by now" he said sadly.

"I wasn't driving the car. Sara was".


	9. Erasing Many Lies with a Single Truth

Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews. I was pleasantly surprised by how many people were shocked by the turn of events in the last chapter. My biggest fear with this story was that the revelation would be one of those "I knew it all along, who did she think she was kidding?" kind of moments. But it seems I underestimated myself a bit. So to those of you who had if figured out, rock on. And to those of you that didn't, hope you liked it! Keep the reviews coming and I will try and crank out a new chapter a little more quickly than I did this one! (and special thanks to certain people  who hounded me via email to get this chapter out! I promised and I made good on it, just for you!)

*                      *                      *

_I was just relishing the thought of a weekend without work when I ran into Sara in the parking lot. I wish I knew why I asked her to come with me that night. Maybe I was feeling more brazen then usual. Maybe my anticipation for the weekend got the better of me. Whatever the reason, I asked. I was hoping she'd accept but expected her to decline. You can imagine my surprise when she said yes. There was something different in her eyes that night. There were ghosts or demons, or something that she needed to try and escape. I guess that I was the logical choice to help her do that. I mean, I had the keys in my hand and a full tank of gas. Anyways, we jumped in my car and took off like two rebels without a cause. I don't know what we were thinking. Well, I know what I was thinking. I was thinking, there is a beautiful girl in the seat next to me, and she is here because she wants to be. I knew that there was nothing more than friendship between us, but hey, when you've got it, flaunt it. So I took her to this bar where no one knew our names and I could feel like The Man because I had a girl like that with me. _

"Is there a point anywhere in this story?" 

Greg glared at Brass. "Hey, who's telling the story here? I'm getting to the point, just hold on. Patience is a virtue you know." Greg screwed up his face as he tried to recall where he was in his story.

_Right, so we went to The Broken Barstool, which as I am sure you are now well aware, is a total dive. But that night it was just what we needed. The drinks were cheap and the crowd was wild. It was the kind of place where you could throw your inhibitions to the wind. It was loud and obnoxious and just cool. We both started drinking the minute we walked through the door. Neither one of us was thinking about how we were going to get home later that night. We were just having a great time._

_I remember that at one point she turned to me and yelled "I can't believe we didn't so this sooner!". She was pretty drunk by then but so was I for that matter. I wouldn't let her pay for a thing. I bought her drinks all night, but hey when they are watered down and dirt cheap it's not that bad. God, he must have served me about a dozen times that night. Between my drinks and hers, I was probably a pretty familiar face at the bar._

"He recognized your pictured but not hers" murmured Catherine. Greg nodded.

_I'm not surprised. She was never anywhere near the bar. She was either on the dance floor or at our table. Anyways, I guess after the first couple of rounds she was getting a little more daring because she dared me to go shot for shot with her. Man, that girl can knock them back! I was hanging in there pretty well, but she must have had some pain to kill because she was firing them back as fast as she could. I think that's when I said something along the lines of:_

_Whoa! Easy tiger, we have all night!" _

_She just laughed and kept on drinking. By the time we were ready to go, both of us were just trashed. We could barely see straight, let alone drive a car. But as we all know, alcohol can do funny things to you. I was going to call a cab but she grabbed the car keys from my coat and took off with them. I followed her out to the car and tried to tell her that she was in no shape to drive. She laughed and asked me where my sense of adventure was. I tried to reason with her but she climbed in the car and turned it on. That gave me two choices, neither of which was particularly desirable: I could let her take off and hope that she'd be ok, or I could get in the car with her. I think we all know what I chose. I don't remember too much about the ride itself, except that she was driving awful fast. I was asking her to slow down. One of the last things I remember saying to her was, "Take it easy kid, you're going to get us killed". It couldn't have been more then thirty seconds later that she lost control the car. She hit the brakes but it was too late. I think we went off the road into a ditch at that point. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the tree rushing at us._

_I don't know how long I was out. I know that when I woke up, my head hurt like hell. I had been wearing my seatbelt, but there was no passenger side airbag. I must have smashed my forehead into the dashboard. I tried to wake Sara up, but she was so still. I was so scared. Combine fear with having too much to drink and it's safe to say that maybe I made a stupid move at that point. _

"You switched seats with her." Warrick spoke this time. Greg nodded and rubbed the uninjured spot on his forehead.

"Why?" asked Catherine cautiously.

"Because I had nothing to lose and she had everything to gain. Sara is a damn good CSI and if it got out that she was driving while impaired, it would destroy her reputation. Everything that she has ever worked for, everything that she has ever sacrificed would be erased by one stupid decision. I couldn't let that happen to her. I'm just the lowly lab tech. Who's going to be remotely surprised that I did something like that? Besides, there was not much at stake for me. I can always find another job. Sara can't. This job is her life. I couldn't let her lose it."

"She could have lost her life anyways" pointed out Brass. Greg nodded and looked down at his hands.

"I wish that I could say I did the smart thing. For a minute I thought I had. I really thought that no one would ever figure out that Sara was behind the wheel of the car. At the time, it seemed like a really good idea that I switched seats with her. As the alcohol wore off, it became clear that there were some very serious repercussions to those actions. It honestly never occurred to be that charges might be brought against me."

Catherine decided to try and get Greg back on track. "So do you want to explain this to us? Tell us how you fooled everyone?"

"It wasn't so hard. Not really, not when you think about it. In fact in hindsight, all of the clues were there….

_When I realized that Sara wasn't going to wake up, I knew I didn't have a lot of time. Someone would be calling 911 soon. I unbuckled myself and then unbuckled her seatbelt. I managed to pull her over towards me, but I must have rubbed my hand against my head, and then brushed it across the dashboard. I guess no one really thought about trying to figure out how my blood got on the passenger side of the car. At any rate, I switched seats with Sara. It didn't occur to me until later that it would be awfully suspicious that I was on the driver's side with an airbag, yet still sustained a head injury. I kept waiting for someone to bust me on that one, but people seemed very willing to accept that I was the one who caused the accident. And don't look so guilty Catherine, I didn't mean it like that. I am making an observation here. You're not the only one who likes to do that you know. Anyways, since no one called me on the head injury, I figured I was home free. The ambulance found me in the driver's seat and the rest is, as they say, history. Until last night. Warrick was helping me change my shirt, since my chest injury makes that particular chore a bit of a challenge. If my mind had been in the right place, I would have known right away that he would piece everything together. The bruises on my chest are what gave me away, aren't they? I knew it. The bruising on my chest runs from my right shoulder down to my left hip. Which of course if the same way a passenger-side seatbelt runs. If I had been driving, the bruises would have been flipped. That stupid seatbelt, which saved my life, also turned out to be my downfall. Not only did it clue Warrick in to my secret, but it raised questions that I am sure would have eventually ratted me out anyways. You guys must have wondered how Sara sustained such minimal injury when she wasn't wearing a seatbelt. Like a fool, I forgot to put it back on her after I made the switch. I thought I was so clever. Instead I was just buying some time until the truth came out. In the end, I guess I still come out the loser, huh?_

Warrick shook his head vehemently. "No way. Yeah, you made a stupid move but don't for a minute think you are a loser. You made the ultimate sacrifice in order to save a friend. Maybe the method was a little unorthodox but your heart was in the right place."

"That's right" agreed Catherine. "I think that Sara is lucky to have someone who cares about her that much."

Greg smiled wanly. "But look at the mess I made. I caused so much grief and wasted so much time. How is anyone ever going to be able to really trust me again?"

The room was quiet for a moment. Then Catherine spoke again. 

"I think it will take some time to get people to trust you. But I also think that when they hear the whole story, they will be willing to overlook a lot of the negative aspects and truly see the genuine concern that was your motivation."

Greg smiled the first real smile since the accident. "Thanks Catherine. But all of this exposition still begs the question: when do I tell Grissom?"

Catherine's cell phone rang before she could answer. She answered and her face also broke into a wide grin.

"Speak of the devil. Sara's waking up. I'd say that there's no time like the present to clean the skeletons out of your closet".


	10. Oh Sure, Now You Want to be My Friend

Author's Note: Another day, another update. This story is going to wrap up in the next couple of chapters, but never fear: my muse is in overdrive so there should be a brand new story starting soon! And heck, I may even finish some existing ones! As always, I own nothing - well, nothing CSI related anyways.

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            Greg watched as the buildings and trees flew past them as they rushed to the hospital. It was the first time he was really alone with his thoughts. He had been tormented for the last couple of days by visions of Sara lying in the hospital bed. Knowing that she was waking up and that her prognosis was good did much to ease his mind. He also felt immensely relieved that Warrick, Catherine and Brass knew the truth about what had happened. Maybe he hadn't intended for everything to be revealed this way but it seemed to work to his benefit. They had been understanding, not judgmental. He felt lucky that they were so supportive. Yet-

_Why weren't they supportive earlier?_

The question that was nagging in the back of his mind echoed in his head. It was something that he had been trying to suppress, but the more he tried to ignore it, the more overwhelming the thought became. It was the only real piece of unresolved conflict in his mind. He was struggling to understand how they could pretend that they had never treated him the way they had when they thought that he was the driver. He understood their anger and their disappointment, he really did. Yet it pained him to think that they were so quick to accept that he was indeed the one driving. After all, he thought, they had told him countless times that it was so unlike him to be irresponsible. Why then did they still so willingly accept that he had been the one at fault? If they truly believed that he was the upstanding, responsible individual that they said he was, why didn't they press the issue further? They made up their minds in an instant and it took irrefutable proof to allow them to see the truth.

Of course, they hadn't all been that way. Warrick had stuck by him. It was almost ironic to Greg that the one person he thought would have been most critical turned out to be his only supporter. He had figured that Warrick would have looked at him as the ultimate screw up. After all, he was Grissom's little protégé. At least it seemed that way to Greg. Warrick was trying to mold himself in Grissom's image and he should have lashed out at Greg the same way Grissom had. Yet he hadn't. Instead he had given Greg overwhelming support. He hadn't given up on Greg, even when Greg had given up himself. 

No, Warrick had been the one true friend to Greg since the accident. It was funny that the rest of them weren't. Greg hadn't been completely surprised by Grissom's outburst, though the physicality of it had shocked him. He knew that Grissom had an affection for Sara that transcended the boundaries of friendship. Greg couldn't quite define their relationship and he doubted that even Grissom and Sara were able to explain the bond they had. But there was clearly something incredibly powerful between them. Greg wasn't stunned then when Grissom had lashed out. What had been shocking was the ferocity of his words. He had said things to Greg that had hurt him to the core. And the nagging little voice in his head was taunting him about it.

_How long has he been waiting to say those things to you?_

Greg had a sneaking suspicion that those words were not merely a "heat of the moment" type of response. He had a feeling that Grissom had unleashed months, maybe even years of pent up emotion upon him under the guise of duress. Of course Grissom would deny it; he would probably even apologize for what he said. Greg could imagine the conversation now.

_"Greg, I'm so sorry, I -"_

_"Forget it"_

_"No, I can't forget it, and neither should you. Greg, when I said those things, I said them out of anger. You know I have nothing but respect for you. You are part of this team and we couldn't stand to lose you. I was upset and I was worried. You have to know that there was not an ounce of truth or validity to any of those things I said yesterday. Please, accept my apology?"_

And I will, thought Greg bitterly. Not because I believe it, but because it is what everyone will be expecting me to do. But that won't change what's been said.

            While Grissom's reaction had at least been anticipated, Greg had been floored by Nick's lack of support. True, Nick had flown right in from Texas to see him, but it was certainly not a gesture of friendship. The look in his eyes as Greg had opened the door had told Greg everything he needed to know. Nick was disappointed in him. There was no concern for Greg's well being; only the annoyance and frustration that were precipitated by Greg's supposed actions. And it hurt Greg that Nick hadn't even called him to check on him. Instead he just flew in from Texas to arrive on Greg's doorstep with that look of disappointment on his face. The hurt that this had caused Greg was almost unbearable. He had always considered Nick to be a friend, maybe even his best friend. And now it looked as if he had had it all wrong. If Nick was really the friend that Greg had thought he was, he would have been supportive. He wouldn't have accepted Greg's assurances that everything was fine. A real friend would have kept pushing until they got some satisfactory answers. But like the rest of the team, Nick had simply resigned himself to the fact that Greg was guilty. Again, someone who he had thought really knew him had so readily accepted the authorities account of what had happened that evening.

_How could you Nick? How could you of all people been so quick to assume I was guilty? I stood by you when you were being investigated in Kristy's death. But where were you when it was my turn to come under the microscope?_

            Greg sighed inwardly as the hospital came into view. He was torn between a host of emotions. He was relieved that the truth was out in the open and that he didn't have to lie to his friends anymore. On the other hand, he was now full of doubts that they had ever truly been his friends in the first place. Their actions over the last couple of days had done little, if anything, to prove that. He was also worried about what Sara would say when she found out that he had lied for her. He was more worried what she might say when she found out that his secret had been exposed. Her reputation was still up in the air. So much had been revealed yet there was still so much to be explained. Greg wasn't entirely sure that he was up to the challenge but he didn't seem to have a lot of choice. They were parking the car and everyone was piling out. They were starting to walk towards the entrance when Warrick looked back at Greg, who hadn't even taken his seatbelt off yet.

"Hey Greg! Let's go."

Greg was half-tempted to respond with, "No, you go on ahead. I'll wait here for five or ten years until this whole thing is nothing more than a bad memory".

However this seemed to be an inappropriate sort of response. Greg climbed out of the car and followed the rest of the group into the hospital.

*                      *                      *

Grissom and Nick were there to meet them in the waiting room. Both looked tired but elated. That is, until they laid eyes on Greg. Grissom's eyes flashed dangerously and the muscles around his mouth twitched uncomfortably. It was easy to see the rage on his face. Nick's expression was more difficult to read. His face was still smiling, but it was more of a hard, unforgiving smile. Greg would have turned and ran had he not been so confident of Catherine and Warrick's abilities to smooth things over. Before anyone else could say a word, Catherine laid out the ground rules.

"Gil, Nick, we can explain everything. Believe me, there is some new information that you guys need to hear. But before we get to that, you are going to tell us what's going on with Sara. When you're done, Greg has something that he will share with you guys. That's the way things are going to go, no exceptions. Am I making myself clear?"

Greg marveled at Catherine's ability to keep a group full of temperamental men under control. She was small in stature but her presence was certainly commanding. Grissom and Nick both nodded their heads in response to Catherine's question and the group sat down in a cluster of chairs. 

Grissom cleared his throat and deliberately avoided eye contact with Greg. "The doctor's are in with Sara right now. She started to wake up about half and hour ago. She's in considerable pain but the doctor's seem to think that there is no permanent damage. They are still going to keep her for about another week to monitor her internal injuries but she should be able to go home soon."

"Gil, that's great news!" exclaimed Catherine. 

"Yeah, it really is" agreed Grissom. "But now it's your turn. What is so important that you had to bring _him -" he jerked his head towards Greg '- here?" Greg felt a small surge of annoyance. For a smart guy, Grissom was certainly being stupid. Shouldn't he realize that Catherine and Warrick wouldn't have brought him here unless there was a good reason?_

Catherine exchanged dark looks with Warrick. They both knew that it was going to kill Grissom to know that Sara had been the one driving the car the night of the accident. Still, the truth had to come out. She took a deep breath. If anyone had to break the news to Grissom, it should be her.

"This isn't easy, so I am coming right out and saying it: Greg wasn't responsible for the accident. He wasn't the one behind the wheel of the car that night. Sara was."

Grissom's face became a mask of disbelief. "I don't-"

Greg interrupted. "It's true. We were both drunk that night, but she was the one driving. She crashed the car. I switched spots with her so that no one would find out. I guess I did a pretty lousy job of keeping it a secret." He looked away.

Grissom was silent. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. For the first time in as long as any of them had known him, Gil Grissom seemed to be at a loss for words. The silence was awkward but it spoke volumes about the magnitude of this disclosure. The news was devastating to Grissom. He had always thought Sara to be the most intelligent individual that he knew. It seemed to be news to him that she too was fallible. She had made the ultimate mistake and it had almost cost her dearly.

He finally put his glasses back on and looked at Greg. They made eye contact for the first time since the outburst in the Emergency Room.

"Why would she do something like that?" Greg winced. That was a loaded question if ever he heard one. And sadly, it was one that he didn't have an answer to.

"I wish I knew Grissom. But I think that is something that Sara is going to need to explain for herself. In the meantime, I'm sorry for any grief I may have caused you. Any of you." he added as he looked around. 

Grissom made a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a moan. The look on his face clearly showed that he was thinking about his outburst from the previous day. He gently grabbed Greg by the shoulders and winced as Greg recoiled involuntarily.

_Here it comes, _Greg thought.

"Greg, I'm so sorry, I -"

"Forget it"

"No, I can't forget it, and neither should you. Greg, when I said those things, I said them out of anger. You know I have nothing but respect for you. You are part of this team and we couldn't stand to lose you. I was upset and I was worried. You have to know that there was not an ounce of truth or validity to any of those things I said yesterday. Please, accept my apology?"

Greg accepted it without really meaning it. As expected, the looks of tensions disappeared from everyone's faces. 

_That's right _Greg's inner voice said, _just pretend everything's okay and that the last two days never even happened._

"Grissom, there's something that's been bugging me" began Warrick, interrupting Greg's internal rant. "If Sara was on the side that had the airbag, how come she sustained such massive injuries while Greg walked away almost unharmed?"

Greg had to bite his tongue in order to avoid saying something about how he was fairly certain that his injuries went far below the surface of the skin. Grissom had an answer all ready.

"Well, I would suppose that it was the impact of the seatbelt pulling against her. If there was enough force, the pressure on her chest and stomach would have been incredible."

"Yeah, it's kind of like Nikki Taylor's accident" chimed in Nick "Remember, the model who nearly died a couple of years ago? She sustained massive internal injuries and the car wasn't going anywhere near as fast as the one that these guys were in."

"I guess it's just luck of the draw" said Grissom. "You never know who it going to be able to walk away from an accident anymore than you know who is going to be injured in one. There are no rules to car accidents. I have seen people come away from a massive wreck without a scratch on them. Similarly, I have seen people killed in an accident that barely did damage to the car. It's all a matter of fate and circumstance."

Greg was half listening as the group continued to chatter on as they waited for the doctor to allow them into see Sara. He had a grin pasted on his face but inside he was seething. This was so typical of them. They pretended that there had never been any dissention in the ranks. They pretended to put the past behind them and they expected him to do the same. But he couldn't so easily forget the way they had acted. Sure they had had reason to be upset at the time, but it was their willingness to accept the worst that was eating away at Greg. Yesterday they had been his judge, jury and executioner. Today they were acting like his best friends.

He barely glanced up when Nick called his name. 

"Yeah?" he said by way of response.

"Listen, I know that we all treated you pretty horribly. But I think I speak for the group when I say that you did a really decent thing. Your heart was in the right place, even if your head wasn't. But you proved a loyalty to Sara and this team that I don't think any of us will forget. You are truly an amazing person."

"We all think so" added Catherine.

Greg looked around at those smiling faces. So friendly. So supportive.

"Thanks. I actually wanted to ask you guys something?"

"Anything." replied Nick.

Greg's face grew hard. "Did you get whiplash from jumping off the bandwagon so fast?"

And he turned and stalked off.


	11. Pain to Kill

Author's Note: I'm so sorry! If you forgive me for the length of time it has taken me to get this update done, I will send you a lovely fruit basket! Seriously, I do apologize; the last month of the summer is always crazy hectic at the pool so I have not had a lick of time. But the story is almost done! I am hoping to wrap it up before I go back to school on Monday. All conflict should (hopefully) get resolved. So while you are reading this, remember: I own nothing! No lawsuits!

*                      *                      *

            The team sat in shocked silence for a long moment after Greg had walked away. They didn't know what to say. The outburst had come as a complete surprise to them. They had thought everything was okay. They had thought that they were ready to move on. They thought that they could turn all of their concern and attention over to Sara.

They thought wrong.

"What the hell just happened here?" said Nick finally. He looked at his colleagues hoping they would have some sort of answer for him.

"I have no idea" responded Catherine, dashing Nick's hopes that someone could explain Greg's sudden mood swing.

"I wonder what he meant by that 'bandwagon' comment" mused Grissom.

"I don't know, but you think he'd be a little more grateful that we are so understanding. A lot of people wouldn't be, you know" said Nick crossly.

They sat around and commented on Greg's lack of gratitude for the next couple of minutes, until a doctor emerged. Grissom was on his feet almost immediately which could only mean one thing: this man was Sara's doctor.

"How is she?"

The doctor smiled at their expectant faces. "She's doing remarkably well. She's in considerable pain, so we have her on some pain medication. Much to her chagrin, I might add. But overall she is doing far better than I think any of us had expected. We're going to keep her in Intensive Care for at least another day or two, and then we'll move her to another room. We'll probably keep her in the hospital for another two weeks, which I know is longer than our original prediction. We want to err on the side of caution since internal injuries are so tricky. But it looks as though there will be no long term problems. She's a lucky young woman."

"Can we see her?" asked Catherine.

"Of course. But I will ask that only one person go in at a time. You can have about ten minutes with her. If she starts to get overwhelmed, I will temporarily suspend her visitors, as she is still in quite serious condition."

The group didn't even ask who was going first. It was simply known that Grissom would go in to see her. As everyone else went back to sit in the chairs to await there turn, Grissom began to make the seemingly endless trek through the Intensive Care Unit. He tried hard not to look, but found he was unable to suppress the urge to survey the people around him. He tried to be discreet as he looked at people who were at the very apex of illness and injury. It was hard to believe that only hours ago Sara had been among them. She had been clinging to life and they had wondered whether or not she would even survive. But as always, she had pulled through. She was a fighter, no doubt about it. Grissom reached her bed and sat down on the chair that a nurse had provided for him. Sara's eyes were closed.

He opened his mouth to speak but found that he didn't know what to say. He was immensely relieved that she was okay but he was also incredibly disappointed that she had been the driver of the car. It had been almost easier when he had thought Greg was responsible. He could lash out at him more easily then he could Sara. Plus, she was still in serious condition and he knew that any reprimand would have to be reserved until later. He sat quietly for a moment trying to formulate an appropriate greeting. When her eyelids fluttered, he knew that he had to say something, whether he was ready or not.

"Sara?"

For the first time in two days he saw her eyes open. They blinked a couple of times and focused in on him. A small smile creased her face, though the effort seemed to exhaust her. The smile slipped away before he truly had time to absorb the beauty of it. He had always taken her smile for granted. Now he wished it could stay on her face forever so that he could drink in the loveliness of it. He forced his eyes away from her lips and up to her eyes. They were tired but they still carried that same old flash of determination. He held her gaze for a moment.

"How are you feeling?"

She sighed. "Like I was hit by a truck". Her voice was quiet.

"Nope, just by a tree." He tried to keep his tone light.

She looked at him with a seriousness that ceased any attempts at humor. "I think we both know that I hit the tree, not the other way around." 

He had to force himself not to recoil at her words. It still seemed unreal that she was the one who had caused such a devastating accident. He wanted more than anything to not think about that at the moment. 

He touched her hand. "We'll talk about that later" he said. "Right now I just want to know that you're okay".

"I could be better. But I could be a lot worse so you won't catch me complaining." She closed her eyes for a long moment. They opened again with a sense of urgency. "How's Greg?"

Grissom flinched very slightly. She didn't even notice. "He's fine. A few cracked ribs and a nasty bump to the head but otherwise okay. They didn't even keep him overnight."

"That's good. Is he here? Can I see him? Because I really want to tell him how sorry I am…." She trailed off as she watched Grissom's face. His eyes were cloudy and he was trying to avert her gaze, without much success. 

 "What is it Grissom? What aren't you telling me?" Damn. Even when she was medicated she had enough sense to probe the issue and try and find answers.

Grissom ran a hand tiredly over his hair. There was no point in hiding it. If she was smart enough to deduce that something was amiss, she was certainly smart enough to know when someone was skirting around the issue.

"I'll tell you, but you can't get upset. If you do, the doctor is going to ban the rest of the team from coming in here".

"Just tell me!" she exclaimed softly.

And he did. He told her about Greg switching seats. He told her about the team's reaction. He told her about _his _reaction. He told her about the investigation. He told her about how the truth finally came out. He told her about Greg's outburst.

When he was done, he looked at her expectantly. He was shocked to find a reproving look on her face. That wasn't what he'd expected. He'd thought she would look surprised, maybe even a little alarmed to learn that Greg had lied for her. Didn't she comprehend that up until fifteen minutes ago, he had believed that Greg was the one responsible for the accident? Why was she looking at him like he was the one who had done something so stupid.

"What?" he asked.

"Grissom, sometimes you have all the tact of a pit-bull. No wonder Greg hauled out of here. Don't you see? Greg must be feeling so hurt right now. You guys were so quick to assume that he was guilty that you never even tried to get his side of the story. He must have felt like the whole world abandoned him."

"We had every right to…"

"Be upset? Yes, you did. But that doesn't mean that you couldn't have tried to talk to him. Instead, everyone turned on him. We are supposed to be a team Grissom. How do you think he must have felt when everyone just accepted his 'guilt' without a second thought? He needed some support and he didn't get it. That's why he snapped at you guys. He doesn't understand how you can just turn emotions on and off like a light switch. You can't be his biggest critic one moment and his biggest supporter the next. You should have known better. You all should have."

Grissom tried to justify his actions. "At the time, I thought he was responsible for almost killing you! I had good reason to act the way I did!"

With some effort, she shook her head. "Then by that logic, you should be in here raging at me for almost killing Greg. Otherwise, you are being a hypocrite."

He stared at her. This was not the way the conversation was supposed to be going. He had only wanted to talk to her and find out how she was feeling. Instead, she was putting him on trial for the way he had acted towards Greg.

"Sara-"

"Grissom, look. I know you were only acting out of instinct. But that doesn't make it right. There are so many more things that we need to talk about but the doctor is going to come and kick you out any minute. We will talk about this, I promise. In the meantime, you can do something for me."

"Name it"

"Go find Greg. Talk to him, try and clear the air. Think about things from his perspective. It may not be a fun conversation, but it is a necessary one."

Grissom nodded. "Alright, as soon as he's had his turn, I will send Nick to-"

"No Grissom. YOU are the one who is going to talk to Greg. You are the leader of this team and it is your responsibility to make things right again. After you and Greg have sorted things out, bring him back here. I want to see him. I need to see him. He and I need to have a long talk about what he sacrificed for me. But I can't do that if he feels like he is an outsider to the team. Please talk to him. Make things right."

Grissom would have stayed and argued with her, but the doctor came and hustled him out into the waiting room. He could only call out a good bye over his shoulder before he was back with the team. Catherine was on her way in when she noticed that Grissom was gathering his things to leave.

"You're not staying?" she inquired.

"I have been sent on a recovery mission. And I have a sneaking suspicion as to where my target is…."

*                      *                      *

**Across Town……**

The young man barely glanced up from his glass. "Bartender, hit me again. I've got a pain to kill"


	12. So Where Do We Go From Here?

Authors Note: Yeah, yeah, I know. It has taken me forever to get this chapter done. Who would have thought that my final year of University would be so hectic? I would have had this done sooner, but I am trying to read "Vanity Fair" and "Jane Eyre" simultaneously…and that is only for one course! I have 5 other ones! Ok, enough ranting. This is the final chapter and there will be a short epilogue to follow. I own nothing…but I wish I did because the guys are looking even hotter this season!

*                      *                      *

            Grissom drove to The Broken Barstool in what seemed like no time at all. He had wished the ride could have taken an eternity, and instead it had been over within minutes. One minute he was at the hospital, and then he blinked and found himself in front of the just-this-side-of-seedy bar. He turned off the car but didn't get out. He sat there, engulfed in the neon glow of the sign and mulled over his conversation with Sara. It had been completely different from what he had envisioned. He wasn't much of a dreamer but he had entertained the notion that their reunion would have been like something you saw on television. There would be a long look between them, a sad sort of smile and maybe a few tears as they exchanged profound words that expressed their renewed sense of wonder at the miracle of life. Perhaps there would be some violins playing softly in the background, just for an added touch of sentiment. That was the scene that the idealist in Grissom had set. In hindsight, his realist side recognized that while their encounter lacked that certain flair for the dramatic, it was certainly closer to what he should have anticipated. He should have known that her primary concern would have been Greg's well being. He had figured she would worry about any physical ailments, but he had forgotten that she was often in tune to the more private, emotional disturbances. She always seemed to be able to read Greg's moods and it shouldn't have come as any surprise that she would know when his emotional welfare was endangered. Why, wondered Grissom, was he so shocked then that Sara was so concerned about Greg that she had sent him on this manhunt?

_Because you thought she would be more consumed with how you were dealing with everything _nagged Grissom's little voice.

That is not true, he thought quickly. Too quickly.

_Yes it is, sure it is. You thought she would be worried about how her decision affected you. You _wanted_ her to look you in the eyes and make sure you were dealing with what had happened._

Well, Grissom reasoned, sure I guess I sort of thought she would at the very least apologize to me. Not that she owes it to me though.

_Ha! Don't try and fool yourself Grissom. You do think she owes it to you. She did the one thing that you never thought she was capable of doing._

I don't know what….

_She FAILED you. Perfect Sara, the one who you always thought you could count on, failed you. Admit it. You are upset because she didn't try to beg your forgiveness. And you think she should have._

Grissom was feeling intense dislike towards this little inner voice right about now. I wasn't expecting an apology, he thought irritably. I was just surprised that she wanted to talk so much about Greg. I mean, he still isn't completely innocent in all this…

_Oh come off it! This has nothing to do with Greg. It never did. From the moment you heard about the accident, everything was about Sara. For a while it was because you thought you might lose her. Later it was because you learned that she is not the infallible creature that you thought she was. But either way, Greg always only played a small role. He was fifth business._

Fifth…?

_Business. Come on, you remember. I am a manifestation of your mind so you can't plead ignorance here. Fifth business refers to a the role in a play that is not the hero or heroine, nor is it the villain. That character however is essential to the recognition. Greg is fifth business. Sara is the lead in this play of her life. Greg was there, but the role he had to play was a far different one. The rules blurred of course, because he ended up as the lead for a while there, but we could engage in a debate about whose life story he was acting out then: his or hers. I suppose it depends on how you look at…_

I get it! Grissom thought. He rubbed his temples. He wished the stupid little voice would disappear back into the recesses of him mind from where it had come. He liked it much better when he was alone with only one set of thoughts. It may not be as objective, but it certainly was a lot quieter. He didn't want to think about what the other part of his mind was screaming at him. He didn't want to believe that he had been that selfish and that heartless. But the more he thought about it, the clearer the picture became. It's funny how much more you can see when you finally open your eyes. Grissom looked at the small, squat building in front of him. He was not relishing the thought of going in there. Talking to someone about the serious stuff was hard enough, but trying to do it after they had had a few drinks was even worse. Grissom didn't even want to think about the new potential problem he may be faced with if Greg was going to turn to alcohol every time he was faced with an issue. Grissom gave his head a final shake and headed into the bar.

*                      *                      *

Grissom spotted him almost immediately. The bar was still fairly empty, with only 3 customers seated at the bar. The young man could be heard slurring "Hit me again" to the bartender, who added another glass to the collection in front of him. Grissom went towards him. The smell of alcohol coming from him was almost repugnant. Grissom fought the urge to knock the glass from his hand.

Greg was sitting two stools away from the young man. There was a single drink in front of him. He didn't notice Grissom approach.

"I hope there's no rum in that Coke" 

Recognizing the teasing voice, Greg replied, "Nope, just aspartame".

Grissom sat down beside Greg. "I've never thought of you as much of a Diet Coke drinker".

Greg took another sip and continued to stare straight ahead. "I've never thought of you as much of a jackass, so I guess we've both learned something today".

"Greg, may I remind you that I am still your boss?"

"May I remind you that I am still the employee that you assaulted? So you may want to reconsider what context you want to talk to me in."

Grissom flinched. "Alright, then let's try this: Greg, I am here as your friend."

Greg drained his glass. "Nope, I wouldn't be friends with someone like you. Try again."

Grissom pictured Sara's gaze and bit back his angry response. "Fair enough. I am here as the guy who acted like a jerk and would really like to try and find a way for you to forgive me."

Greg turned to face him. "You're getting warmer. Let's work with that for now."

Grissom found himself at a loss for words again. Greg gave him something that would barely pass as a smile.

"This is the part where you say ' Greg, I'm so sorry. I was wrong. I am dog. No, I am worse then a dog. I am the flea that lies on the dog…' and so on and so forth down the evolutionary chain until you reach scum"

Grissom stared. "Wow, that was harsh."

"No less then what you deserve"

"Ok, this is not getting us anywhere. Greg, listen to me: I was wrong. And I am sorry. But let's face it; we are way beyond apologies here. I can't say anything that will make you feel any differently. And you can't say anything that will change the way I acted. The last three days have been a turning point for us. For all of us. And things won't ever be the same again. They can't be. You and I, and everyone, we are all different people then we were on Friday. I don't know how to get us back to who were then, and I am not ever sure if those people exist anymore. All I know is that what's done is done. There's no going back."

Greg looked at Grissom carefully. It was true. There was something different in his eyes now, something that wasn't there before. And Greg knew if he were to look in the mirror that he would find a stranger staring back at him. The realization cut like a knife. He swallowed hard.

"So if we can't go back, then I guess the next logical question is where do we go from here?"

"It depends. I guess the only thing we can do is try and move on from where we are now. We take tiny baby steps forward and try to put our lives back in order."

Greg smiled grimly. "I'm not sure if I can do that. My life right now feels like a jigsaw puzzle that has pieces missing. I feel as if I have lost part of myself. I don't know when, or if, I will be able to find those pieces and put everything back again."

Grissom was silent for a long moment. When he spoke again, there was a startling finality in his voice. "I came here tonight because Sara asked me to. She wants to see you, but not until you and I have made our peace. I came here because I thought we could do that. But there more I thought about it, the more I realized something: everything that has happened between us, it was never about you and what I thought you had done. My only concern was for Sara. And in the process, I treated you with great disrespect and for that I am sorry. I wish things had turned out differently. But they didn't. I don't know how to make peace with you, because I can't make peace with my life. And I suspect you are caught in that same dilemma. I am sorry for what's transpired between us but I don't have an easy 'band-aid' solution. I guess what I am saying is that you have to go and see Sara. I can't tell you to lie to her but remember that she is still in a dangerous position. I think its best for her if we just try to placate her for the time being. Think it over. I've got to get back to the hospital."

With that, he got up and walked away.

*                      *                      *

Greg watched his retreating back. He knew he ought to feel hurt and confused by the brief conversation that had just occurred, but he realized that he was not the least bit surprised. There was nothing that could be done for any of them any more. He didn't relish the thought of going back to work in another week or two (when the doctors officially cleared him). He knew what he had to do though. 

But first he had to go see Sara.

*                      *                      *

He arrived at the hospital just moments before visiting hours were over. He had called ahead and made arrangements with the doctor to slip in and see Sara once everyone was gone. He couldn't handle seeing the team right now. The doctor had been hesitant, but had conceded because he thought that seeing Greg would help ease Sara's mind and allow her to rest more easily. Greg quietly walked over to where Sara was resting. She stirred as he sat down.

"Greg!" her voice was soft but filled with emotion. 

"I'm sorry!" they both whispered at once. She laughed softly.

"What are you sorry for? I'm the one who ran us into a tree"

"I'm sorry that I allowed things to get so out of hand in the first place."

She waved her had in a weakly dismissive gesture. "Don't be silly." Her face grew serious.

"Thank you". She looked him right in the eyes. He met her gaze and smiled.

"Anytime. You know I would do anything for you."

"You shouldn't. You risked everything for me. And I can't find words to express what that means to me."

He shrugged sheepishly. "Your welcome. And I would do it again in a heartbeat, no questions asked."

He grew silent for a moment. He looked as if he wanted to ask her something.

"What?" she said, studying his face.

"Why Sara? Why did you take that crazy chance? What were you trying to prove?"

She looked tired. She had wondered when someone was going to ask her about that. It seemed only appropriate that it be Greg who made her talk about the tough stuff.

"I wish that there was an easy answer to that. I guess I was just feeling like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted to prove that I am in control of my life and I can dictate when it can or can't get me down. I'm getting older and sometimes being an adult is just too much effort. I wanted that blissfully numb feeling of childhood again. Pretty dumb, huh?"

He rubbed her hand. "Well, unless you spent your childhood in an alcohol induced stupor, then yes, it was dumb. But I think I know what you mean. It's nice to just take the edge off for a while and forget about life for a bit. I know that feeling, believe me. But it sure is a dangerous way to escape reality."

"Sometimes, it's almost fatal" her voice was heavy and her eyes were shining with tears. He squeezed her hand again.

"Shhh. Listen, everything worked itself out in the end, right? You learn from this. You take it and you make yourself into a better person because of it. We all will."

She smiled sadly. Then her eyes grew questioning. "Did Grissom…?"

"Come and talk to me? Yeah, he did. We talked everything out. He helped me put things in perspective and I know where I need to go from here." He hoped she wouldn't notice how carefully evasive his answer was. To his relief, she smiled. It was the first genuine smile anyone had given him in three days.

"Greg, I want to talk to you some more, but I think the drugs are kicking in and I am about to fall asleep here. But just know that you are the most amazing friend and I love you."

He kissed her cheek. "Love you too, Sara."

"Will you be back tomorrow?" Her eyes were pleading. He grinned.

"I'll come back every night, just before they kick everyone out for the night. That will be our time, ok?"

She smiled as her eyes began to close. "I'll make sure that everyone else leaves before you get here."

He had hoped she'd say that. "It's a date" he teased as he squeezed her hand one last time. 

*                      *                      *

Greg was true to his word. Every night for the next two weeks he came and sat with her as she drifted off to sleep. Once she was released, he kept up the ritual and visited her every evening. Nearly a month after the accident, she greeted him with some good news.

"I get to go back to work tomorrow!" she exclaimed.

"Sara, that's great news!" he replied, giving her a careful hug. He hadn't returned to work yet. His ribs were almost healed, but he had wanted to wait until Sara went back to work. 

"Yeah, I'm stuck doing strictly paper work for about a month, but after that it will be like old times."

He felt a pang in his chest. It would never be like old times. He pasted a smile on his face anyways. "Well then I won't stay. You should get some sleep before your big return."

"_Our _big return. You promised you'd come back when I did." She chided. Her smile dropped only slightly. "You will be with me, right?"

He smiled at her and kissed her forehead as he headed for the door. "I'll always be with you. See you Sara"

And he walked away into the night.

*                      *                      *

****The term "Fifth Business" came about from the book by the same name by Robertson Davies. The definition of the term can be found in this book, and it is cited as such: Tho. Overskou, _Den Danske Skueplads. No infringement of copyrights was intended. I just wanted to define it for those that are unfamiliar with the term._********


	13. Epilogue Someday

Authors Note: This is it, ladies and gents. Hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing this. Many thanks for all the reviews and keep your eyes peeled for some new stuff by me in the near future. Wait, forgot, school work calls….okay, look for me in the not-so-near future.

*                      *                      *

Sara drank in the familiarity of the crime lab as she walked through the halls that she knew so well. It felt so good to be back. To their credit, no one at the lab asked any questions about the accident. Instead they overwhelmed her with flowers and well wishes. It took her almost half an hour to go twenty feet down the hall. Every time she started to move forward again there was someone else in front of her. She finally reached the break room where the rest of the team was waiting. It wasn't until she had hugged everyone and reassured them that she was doing fine that she noticed that someone was notably missing.

"Where's Greg?" she asked. Grissom's eyes clouded for a moment. He and Greg hadn't spoken since the day Sara had emerged from the coma.

"I haven't seen him yet. Are you sure he was starting back today?" he said trying to keep his voice neutral.

"I'm positive. He and I were going to start back together. I hope everything's okay" she said worriedly.

There was a knock at the door. One of the young secretaries was standing there with an envelope in her hand.  "Mr. Grissom? This just arrived for you sir. It's marked 'Urgent'. I hope….Sara!" She exclaimed suddenly. "Oh my God girl, how are you doing?"

Seeing that Sara was momentarily occupied, Grissom took the opportunity to open the envelope. The note inside was short but he knew without glancing at the name who it was from. He read and reread the note quickly to make sure he understood right. He stole a glance at Sara. She was still engaged in an animated conversation with the secretary. He made his way to the door, catching Catherine's eye in the process. She carefully sidled over to him.

"What's up?" she asked, noting the worry etched in his eyes.

"I have to go try and take care of something. Keep an eye on Sara, ok?" With that, he slipped out of the room and headed for his car. He glanced at his watch.

He only hoped he would make it to the airport in time.

*                      *                      *

_How the hell did we wind up like this   
Why weren't we able   
To see the signs that we missed   
And try to turn the tables_

*                      *                      *

The airport was extraordinarily busy for ten o'clock on a Monday morning. Or did it just seem that way because time was of the essence right now? Grissom hurried through the busy terminal. He consulted the schedule and found what he was looking for. He hurried to Gate 22: Las Vegas to Tampa. He resisted the urge to force the throngs of people out of his way. They didn't realize the situation he was in. How could they? 

He heard the call announcing the boarding of the Tampa-bound flight. He finally saw him, in the line that was beginning to make its way on to the plane. Ignoring social conventions (now was not the time) he pushed his way through and grabbed his target by the elbow.

"Hey! What the hell-?" said Greg sharply. He stopped when he saw who it was. 

"Hi Greg" said Grissom softly.

Greg glanced at the line of people that was making their way to the plane, then back at Grissom. "Grissom, I've got a plane to catch."

"Not until you tell me what you think you're doing" replied Grissom.

"I explained it all in the note"

"All you said was that you couldn't stay here anymore and that I should make sure that Sara is okay." exclaimed Grissom.

"Well that about sums it up" said Greg. "I have to go. I can't pretend anymore."

"Can't pretend what anymore?" 

Was he really that dense? Greg gestured wildly in the air. "I can't pretend that everything is okay when it is so clearly not. I can't pretend that things haven't changed when they so clearly have. And I can't pretend I am wanted here when I am so clearly not."

"Greg, I-" 

Greg interrupted. "Save it Grissom. My plane's about to leave and I need to be on it".

*                      *                      *

_I wish you'd unclench your fists   
And unpack your suitcase   
Lately there's been too much of this   
Don't think it's too late _

*                      *                      *

Grissom hurried to find words. He grabbed Greg's arm again to prevent him from walking away. "Greg, listen to me. I know things have been awful between us lately, but that doesn't mean that we can't fix them. There is always room for starting over."

Greg gave a bitter laugh. "Funny, the last time we talked, I remember you saying that you couldn't make peace with me, because you couldn't make peace with your life. So which is it Grissom? 'Let's make peace' or 'Sorry, no chance of that'? Because you can't have it both ways."

"Greg, I will admit that I came down hard on you during that last conversation. But I have had a lot of time to think since then. I have made my peace with the situation."

"Yet it's not until you're faced with me leaving that you bother to come and talk to me about it. Yeah, I can tell you really wanted to work through the problem."

Grissom was getting desperate. "Greg think about what this will do to Sara. She needs you."

Greg sighed. "Yes, she does. But she'll have to learn to live without me for a while. She'll be okay; she always is."

Grissom studied the set look on Greg's face. There was not going to be any changing his mind. "So. That's it, huh?"

"Looks like it."

"What do we say now?" Grissom asked. Greg thought for a moment.

*                      *                      *

_Well I hoped that since we're here anyway   
We could end up saying   
Things we've always needed to say_

*                      *                      *

"I think we've said all we can say." said Greg finally. "What's done is done, and you can't erase the past, and so on and so forth."

"I really wish you wouldn't go" said Grissom.

"What you really wish is that I would stay so we could put on an act that everything worked out in the end. You wish I would stay so you won't have to feel guilty because I left."

"When did you become so hateful?" Grissom snapped, starting to lose his patience.

Greg's eyes grew sorrowful. "Around the same time you lost all faith in me."

Grissom felt a sharp pang in his chest. "Greg, I'm sorry. I truly am."

Greg shrugged and picked up his bag. "Too little, too late."

*                      *                      *

_Now the story's played out like this   
Just like a paperback novel   
Lets rewrite an ending that fits   
Instead of a Hollywood horror_

*                      *                      *

"Is this how it has to end?" asked Grissom. He knew the answer, yet he feared hearing Greg say it.

"I'm afraid so. Take care of everyone for me. Tell them I'm sorry and that I will miss them."

"Will you ever come back this way again Greg?"

Greg smiled sadly. "Someday. I don't know when, but I will make it back here someday."

He began the slow lonely walk to the gate so that he could board the plane that would take him away from here. Grissom made one last plea.

"You don't have to leave you know" he called to Greg. "Don't take the coward's way out."

Greg turned and faced him one last time. "Well, I tried being the hero, and that didn't turn out so good for me either. Bye Grissom"

And he walked away and out of their lives.

*                      *                      *

_Someday, somehow   
gonna make it alright but not right now   
I know you're wondering when_

*                      *                      *

**** "Someday" by Nickelback. (2003)**** ****


End file.
